Well that was really unexpected...

          I am not a golfer. I have been happily wedded to one for thirty-six years but during that time, I think I could count on one hand the number of times I have played golf with him. He takes it very seriously. 

     Over the years, I have watched probably thousands of hours of golf tournaments on the golf channel and I've actually been to a couple championship tournaments. It's been fun. I've always found a player I could root for. 

    

     I have been a golf widow at least one weekend a year for the past twenty years when my hubby has gone off on his "Mancation" with a group of buddies. They all play an ungodly amount of golf for three days. When he returns home he tells me all the crazy stories from the trip. 

    But, even though I supported his love for the sport, I still had this nagging thought inside me that I was somehow not connecting with a very important aspect of his life. Don't get me wrong, we do other things together, but I just didn't feel like I shared in the one thing that he enjoyed the most.  So, I decided to try it.

     I took some lessons and started hitting balls at the driving range. I stunk it up pretty bad but I kept going. For an entire summer and into the fall I made it a point to hit balls at least once a week at the range. 

     

     Finally, he took me out to a practice course to see how I was doing. He made me so nervous that I failed at every turn which sent me back to the driving range.

     He took me to a few more easy courses and every once in a while I would nail a good shot but for the most part, I still stunk. I wanted so bad to impress him that I talked myself into a tizzy and would hit it off into the wild blue yonder or barely get it off the tee. 

     So after the weather turned cold I stopped practicing and when spring came around I had all but forgotten about playing until a friend invited us to go out and play sometime. My stomach clenched at the idea. She had had lessons and she was playing regularly and I hadn't picked a club up in months. I wanted to go but I just knew I would embarrass myself. 

     When she mentioned it again a few weeks later I decided this might actually happen and I better get to practicing. I made it a point to head out to the driving range again and started hitting balls. At that point, I KNEW I would embarrass myself but a little voice inside me said, "Who cares, it's just a game." The thing is, when I picked the clubs up again, I realized, I kind of enjoyed it, especially when I made that perfect connection(which lets face it, wasn't too often.)

     The next time we were at dinner together we decided to play a round at a local par three course. It was going to be my hubby against my friend and I playing best ball. Her hubby was going to be the "Official."

     My nerves were on high alert when we got to the course. I was excited but I also had no idea how well she could play and the last thing I wanted to do was slow everyone down trying to find my ball that I hit somewhere out in the boondocks. 

     When she teed off, she hit a pretty good drive and my nerves kicked up a few notches. I teed my ball up and went through my routine to get my form right and swung. To my happy surprise I actually hit a decent drive. Of course, my brain kept telling me, that was probably the last of the good shots.

     But although I did have some definite flubs, I hit some good shots and started to relax and enjoy playing after about the third or fourth hole. 

     We got to hole number twelve and I would like to tell you it was a par 3, 112 yards with a dogleg off to the right and the pin at the back of the green. But in all honesty, I haven't a clue what it looked like. If you asked my hubby he could  probably give you every aspect of the hole including where the sprinklers were located. 

     I hit my drive and it looked pretty decent. I thought it might have gone a little long and probably went over the green, but how far I didn't know. As we approached the green, I found out I was only about four feet from the pin! If I were able to somehow get the ball into the cup, I would get a birdie. One under the allotted number of ball strikes for the hole, for those of you who don't play golf. So, I lined up my putter, said a little prayer and lightly tapped the ball and low and behold, that ball rolled right into the cup. I jumped and screamed and did everything you probably aren't supposed to do in the very proper game of golf. Of course, we were way behind my avid golfing husband in the overall score but I didn't care because he got a par on the hole and I got a birdie. I BEAT HIM!

     So, on to the next hole. Hole number thirteen. Nothing good could ever come from playing on hole thirteen. It's got bad juju. But, I lined up my drive and took a whack and it shot off like a bullet. It didn't have any loft like it was supposed to so after a short distance it hit the ground and started to roll. I watched it for a moment then lost site of it. It looked like it was going straight at least. My friend hit her ball and then my husband and off we went looking for our balls except mine was nowhere to be found. I looked all over and there was no sign of it. After a little bit we decided to go ahead and play my friends. My hubby's was already on the green so my friend and I took turns hitting the ball until we managed to get to the green. We were already laying up four shots before we ever even got close to the cup. 

     My husband was up to putt. I continued to wonder where my ball had gone off to. It really did look like it was rolling toward the green the last time I saw it. I glanced at my hubby hitting the ball and continued to look around. Out of the corner of my eye I watched his ball drop into the cup but what came out of his mouth next completely blew my mind. "Hey there's another ball in this cup. What were you playing with?"

     "A Nike, I think," I responded still only halfway paying attention.

     He pulled the ball out of the cup and sure enough, it was a Nike ball! I had hit a hole in ONE. Again, I was jumping up and down, screaming at the top of my lungs to the point that the guys playing on an adjoining green asked what happened. Of course, I had to tell them. I giggled and stuck the ball in my pocket and got another one. No way was I going to play with it again and risk losing it.

    

     We got to the next hole and my husband said, "I have been playing fifty years and I have never hit a hole in one. Not many people can say they have."

I can.

Through the Eyes of a Child

                I recently had the opportunity to see the world through the eyes of a child.

     

     It was absolutely fascinating. If you have never had that opportunity, I highly recommend it. It will warm your heart and might possibly change the way you look at the world.

     

Spending even a day, just allowing yourself to wander in their world, listening to their imagination run wild, can fill you with life and make you look at your world differently. 

Suddenly, fallen leaves are beautiful treasures. 

Or a rose past it's bloom is a loving offering. 

     Somehow, the things you take for granted on a daily basis, you look passed more often then not, come in to focus and you can see their beauty. You begin to watch, as they do, as a dragonfly hovers over a plant ready to land.

     You take in the iridescent colors of their wings. Had they always been that pretty? 

     Then, as the child holds out their hand, they speak to the tiny insect hoping the creature will take their offering of the friendly gesture. Surely, not. The insect take flight and suddenly your heart hopes. The child's eyes widen and you watch in utter disbelief as the tiny creature lands on the outstretched hand.

    

     Nothing is impossible in a child's world. 

Creatures are not creatures, they are friends. 

     They have lives and stories and families just like us and it's absolutely wonderful.

   Looking at it through adult eyes you wonder when your view changed. When was it exactly that you lost the ability to appreciate the world around you? 

   

    I took a walk this morning. A dragonfly was perched on the top of a beautiful withering leaf and I held out my hand.

Welcome to the Stage

     One of my favorite things to do on a night out is go to a concert. I honestly have no idea how many concerts I have been to. I started as a teen. I have seen everything from rock concerts to country to Christian to philharmonic symphonies and I have enjoyed them all. I've even been back stage a time or two.

     There is something about seeing a band, that you have heard on the radio, live. There's an energy, an excitement. I can remember seeing bic lighters light up the room when a band played. Now people hold up their phones with the flashlight on.

     I can't exactly remember the first concert I went to. I was definitely into rock as a teen. I saw Rush, AC/DC, Styx just to name a few. But there was one concert that stood way above the rest.

 
  BOSTON. I saw them at the Frank Irwin Center in Austin Texas. To this day their concert stands as my all time favorite, and here's why. Imagine you are sitting in a huge concert venue listening to one of your favorite bands when suddenly the lights go out. After a moment you hear a low rumble that shakes your seat. Then a lone light slowly goes from dim to bright shining on something gold on the stage. You see something moving but you can't quite make it out. The low rumble becomes louder, the light becomes brighter and you finally see one of the band members twirling a cape while standing on the seat of a HUGE pipe organ that has just risen out of the stage floor. Hands down my all time favorite concert.

     I have even seen some bands recently that I saw as a teen. One of the bands that have stood the test of time is the band KANSAS.
I saw them in the 70s and then again at a local
 fair a couple of years ago. I am a sucker for good harmonies and these guys were spot on. They weren't flashy, they were just great musicians and put out some excellent music.

I think my second favorite of all concerts I have been to was just because of an unexpected event. I had gone to the local Blues Festival. All of the venues were outside. I specifically wanted to see Jonny Lang. Now for those who don't know who Jonny Lang is, he is a master guitarist who could just about rival Stevie Ray Vaughn.  So as I was standing there listening, he starts into his hit song Still Raining. And just as if he planned it, the skies open up and it starts raining. It was absolutely perfect timing. And as the song finished, guess what? So did the rain.

I got to see Jonny Lang recently in concert. He still puts on a great show and man can that guy play the guitar, but we were in an inside venue so no chance at seeing it rain. Oh well.



I love my rock 'n' roll, but I am a country fan too.


 I have seen a few of those artists also. I saw Reba several years ago.

I haven't been to too many country concerts lately but I will be getting a chance soon and I'm excited.







   The one thing I love about country music, is the stories they tell. Country artists are the best at painting a picture in song.  So if you are looking for something fun to do for a night out, see if there are concerts in the area and...go!