Fore

I don't think I've ever heard anyone who golfs describe themselves as "good" golfer. Every golfer I ever knew moaned about their short game or their tendency to slice or how that last shot off the 18th tee could have been better. I have a solution: play with my daughters and me. We will make you look like both Tiger Woods and Arnold Palmer on their very best days in comparison.

My father, a very experienced and dedicated golfer of many years, offered to take Thing 1, Thing 2 and I out for 9 holes last night; a very generous offer, considering it would take years off his life and scar his very soul.
Thing 2 has had some lessons, but Thing 1 and I are very new to the sport. All three of us have a LOT to learn.

While my dad hit the ball like it was supposed to be hit, and went more or less straight towards it's target, the rest of us flailed away like electrocuted monkeys, occasionally making contact with the ball, sometimes making it go towards the hole and even sometimes both at the same time. I made one memorable shot at one point where the ball went exactly 90° to the direction in which I meant for it to go...how does that even happen?.....it was like physics took a holiday. Thing 1 took out a few divots out of the ground that were the size of your head. Thing 2 managed to put a ball exactly and precisely in the middle of an enormous puddle.....she couldn't have done it again if her life depended on it.

And although everyone kept their sense of humor and no one (including dad) got too frustrated, I'm sure golfing with us was a memoral departure from his usual golfing experience.

Things My Father Does Not Usually Hear From His Golfing Partners:

• "It's my turn to play the pink ball, you played it last time."
• "Wait a second, I broke a nail."
• "My pants are falling down"
• "I lost my hairband"
• "Which way is the hole?"
• "Oh, look! A baby duck!"
• "I want a golf cart for Christmas!"

Without a doubt, the highlight for the girls was driving the golf carts. Driving a golf cart is all kinds of fun, even when you are used to driving an actual car. Something about a golf cart lends itself to hilarity, and the ever present possibility of driving it into a pond or tipping it over gives the whole thing an air of slightly contained hysteria.

Despite our lack of prowess, I think we all enjoyed ourselves. I'm pretty sure my dad is almost over it.

May 2-4

Yesterday was Victoria Day, which is the first long weekend of the summer around here. It is usually marked by distinctly unsummer weather, but this year was a pleasant exception in that the rain did not come down horizontally and the temperatures stayed up in the double digits for most of the weekend, and it was sunny, sunny, sunny.

We put out all the breezeway furniture and got some plants in the ground and I washed some windows and cleaned up around the yard. It was nice to get moving and feel like summer is almost here.

After dinner, all four of us went to the driving range. Surprisingly, we all love going to the driving range. I say surprisingly, because only one of us actually knows how to golf. Who knew the driving range would be the one family activity that ends with everyone smiling and still talking to each other?

The Mister, of course, is very good at the driving range. The Mister is pretty good at most sports, possessing a modicum of physical co-ordination that eludes me entirely. He regularly astonishes me by catching things tossed to him, descending stairs in an orderly fashion and landing upright on both his feet at the bottom of them, things I cannot do at all.

Thing 2 is very good at the driving range, too. Both her grandfathers are avid golfers and she seems to have inherited all the athletic DNA from both sides of her family. The first time she picked up a golf club she asked what she was supposed to do and she just….did it. And when she hits the ball, which she does every time, it goes. Far. In a straight line. I am in awe.

Thing 1 and I are cut from the same cloth, meaning that what we lack in talent we make up for in enthusiasm. We hit the ball more often than not, but where the ball will go is anybody’s guess. At one point last night, I saw a ball dribble past me at the speed of grass growing, and looked behind me to see Thing 1 doubled over with laughter at her efforts….I said I didn’t even know how you make a ball go that slowly, let alone at a 90°angle to where you meant it to go. I managed to hit the ball more often than not (Yay! A new personal best!), and have decided that an entire game of golf might be beyond me just yet. (Can you imagine? It would take me days to complete a round.) She also managed to go through six tees in a half an hour, which, if you don’t know? Is a lot of tees. I was beginning the think she wasn’t hitting golf balls at all, she was just swinging away at the tees.

Thing 1 and I giggled and laughed our way through our bucket of balls, and Thing 2 and the Mister actually hit their bucket of balls, and everyone got what they wanted out of it. Bring on the summer.