You Say Goodbye; But I Say Hello

Hello? Hello? I don’t know why you say good-bye; I say hello. Unfortunately, I’m not talking about my latest trip to Target. I’m talking about my golf game. After 6 months of the winter blues, and a season opening trip to Dick’s Sporting Goods to buy a new putter, I’m back out on the golf course. Last week was kick-off of my weekly golf game with Foreplay. (My fun foursome gal pal golf posse – aka Wik, Jugs, Gracie, and GG.)

I’m the first to admit that I am not that great of a golfer. There are some golfers out there who are worse than me, but my girly golf shoes won’t be gracing any LPGA greens. Ever. And I’m ok with that. Besides, I’m straight. (Did I just say that in my out-loud voice?)

At the end of last season, I was getting close to an occasional par…. mostly bogeys or double-bogeys. (I seem to always choke on the par – like a big old chicken bone in the throat - choke.) But, par wasn’t that far out of my reach. Then Jack Frost rolls around, and poof! Golf game gone. Twice out this spring and I’m back to stinking like a big ‘ol dead skunk on the side of a dirt road. My little pink noodle ball is lying there motionless just laughing at me. She’s looking up at me going “Come on.. come on dumb ass.. hit me if you can – you silly little girl-golfer.” I’m hacking at it like I’m trying to kill a 6 foot long python in my back yard. When little pink noodle wasn’t just sitting there, she was getting comfortable perched in the middle of a bush, wedging herself between rocks, flocking to the nearest sand trap, or hiding under a tree like a pretty little Easter egg. Well, it ain’t Easter, sister.

I know it’s early, so I’m completely optimistic. So for now, I will resign to chasing the noodle. In the end, I WILL get that par.

Hela, heba helloa