While I will admit that oftentimes, my wife is extremely generous with things like this, she also recognizes that yet again this week, she gets to travel out of town and stay in a nice hotel with uninterrupted sleep, while I stay home with the kids. And for this, she recognizes, I deserve some "me time."
So, I made a 9 a.m. tee time, called a buddy and I was off.
Now, for the unitiated, let me explain this "day of golf." It generally involves all men, hopefully men of the same general age group, and copious amounts of beer...and swearing. Today was no different. It was a sweltering 91 degrees out on the course and by the 9th hole, the other three gentlemen I was playing with were all purchasing beer three at a time in a bag full of ice. I, on the other hand, knowing I had to come home and take over watching sick children, stuck to one beer and a pain pill (which easily equals two beers really).
While I'd like to say that as the sober one of the bunch, my game was a shining example of what "to do," that was sadly, not the case. My game, while oftentimes inspiring, suffers from the occasional mediocrity. Mediocrity, in the amateur golf world, is pretty bad, so you do the math.
At any rate, a good time was had by all. We talked about work (sparingly), joked each other about our poor shots and even discussed what "might have been" involving some past love interests. All in all, a good day with 'the boys'.
Darn good thing too, because when I got home, I had one still partially sick child, who didn't want to nap-only stay awake and complain-and one super-hyper three-year old who couldn't understand why daddy didn't want to play trains for the umpteeth trillionth time.
I gotta be honest with you...sometimes, I'm glad tomorrow is Monday.
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