Golf- Round 1

Well, today was a good day. I got up at 11:30 (ahhh) and did laundry, then I took a nice long bath and continued Reading The Memoirs of Helen of Troy... I am almost finished. Finally the Troyan (now Trojan) war is finished, and it's 10 years after the war.

This afternoon we went to Hidden Lake to Golf, but when we got there... golf outing. Damn! So we went to Indian Valley in Tiskilwa, and paid to golf 9 holes, which took us forever on account of my suckage. We accidentally met up with Evan's Aunt Patti and Uncle Sean, and they golfed the last 4 holes with us. I did really well at first, being as how I used my hybrid club for every shot between Teeing off with my driver and pitching onto the green and putting. But then I was convinced to use my irons, and I have discovered that I have a hateful relationship with any iron below the 7. Ugh. Towards the end I picked it up a little, finding a groove, but in the center... pure suckage. I can hit the ball almost every swing, but mostly it was either staying on the ground and going like 500 feet at a time, or sailing up and then slicing right. Damn. I only threw a club down once, and that was after 5 swings in the grass off the fairway, when I was getting pissed that it was like "I'm the only one playing and everyone else is watching and waiting for me to get back on the fairway, even though I am only 5 feet from it. Ick.

But all in all I survived. And I hope to go back to our regular course, where I know the holes a little better. I do love my clubs. I was afraid to hit the ground, like my clubs would get dirty and I would screw up the grass. Husband says "Don't be afraid to hit the ground, you need to get under the ball more" and then on the next swing I nailed the ground and he goes "You HIT the ground!" and I was like "I KNOW I HIT THE GROUND! YOU told me 'Don't worry about hitting the ground' and then when I do it, you yell at me!" Poor husband. trying to help. But you can only have so much help, and other times you just need practice. I lift my head, which apparently is a no-no.... but every time I don't lift my head I slice really bad. It's like I feel the need to LOOK where I am aiming. And of course I turn the club, lift my feet, yada yada yada.

We had a drink in the clubhouse and I had a snickers and a sprite. Pure goodness. Then we went to Indian Valled Inn in tiskilwa for some supper- I had some Kick ass fried chicken and salad bar. Wow was it good. Then we had 1 drink at Kelly's and we headed for home. I went to The Dawg House in Wyanet and had two drinks later.... which was nice because I ran into some friends. But 2 other friends I thought were going to meet me there, never showed up. Bummer.

So now I sit here in my underwear, ready to sleep, peeling the skin from my sunburn. Good fun. Everyone have a nice weekend!

EDIT: Notice how I took photos of my husband golfing. Also Notice How there are NO photos of me golfing.... Husband didn't even touch the camera once and he took no pictures of me. My first time golfing with my own clubs, with brand NEW clubs. The camera was 2 feet from him at all times and he never once felt inclined to photograph me. Not even just sitting in the golf cart or getting my clubs ready. Can you tell I am Royally Pissed Off a little bitter about that? Did I mention that I have not had my picture taken by my husband since August of 2005 on our Honeymoon? He didn't take one picture of me opening my Christmas Presents. He didn't take one picture of me opening my Birthday presents, or Valentine Presents, OR of me golfing or swimming.

In scrapbooks and in history, it's as though I do not exist. And, being a scrapbooker, this frustrates the HELL out of me. I have an "All about me" scrapbook that I have completed as a project, and I am supposed to fill it with pictures of me in 2006. Well, it's the end of JUNE and I have only had one snapshot taken of me AT ALL and it was by my mom at her birthday. My life goes on undocumented. I really appreciates that Ruben at Each Day Counts takes ADORABLE pictures of his wife Megan- all the time. How sweet is that? The best part is that he WANTS to take pictures of her! Without being asked or told! What am I supposed to do, walk up to my husband and say "take my fucking picture god damn it?!" Argh! Apparently nothing that I do, say, or wear is worthy of documenting forever.

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