Happy Birthday to yooouuuu! Happy Birthday to yoouuuu! Happy Birthday dear Stanley! Happy Birthday to yooouuu!!! You are 73 years young and a wonderful husband, boyfriend and life partner. May you have many more healthy and happy years!
I hate golf.
I'm sure my lousy game has everything to do with the courses I play and nothing to do with the fact that I just generally play like crap, but in looking for yet another deal, we chose to screw up Stan's birthday by playing this miserable course. River Ridge golf courses be damned!!! Never, I say NEVER, again!!! That eliminates three golf courses from our local golf repertoire. Hang on Buenaventura and Los Olivos . . . I beg of you.
When we were on our walk this morning, Stan seriously thought about postponing the game for better weather. It was cloudy and cold and threatening rain. He decided to let SW (Stan Weiner) be the determining factor, and when SW called wanting to know when we'd pick him up, well, the die was cast. SB made luscious tuna sandwiches which we put in our new little cooler, along with carrots, apples, tortilla chips and the irreplaceable Pepsi.
I threw on my old golf shoes rather than dirty up my new Nikes, but wore the golf pants that Stan likes on me the best (it was his birthday, after all). SB and I had on 3 or 4 layers each in anticipation of a cold, windy and possibly rainy day. SW never seems to be cold. In fact, I was surprised to see him in long pants today.
Each and every one of us played absolutely awful! Just look at our scorecard. I picked up the ball at least three times, SW picked up twice. I counted every stroke, SB played double par (he insists that would only add a couple of strokes to his final score - I have to believe him . . . it was his birthday, after all). I landed in three (!!!) sand traps on ONE HOLE (the 6th). SB was so frustrated, sad and disgusted that he stopped counting how many times we landed on the fairway and how many putts we made. I was so frustrated, sad and disgusted that I took very few pictures and videos to document his horrific day. (To punctuate this even further, one of the videos I took for the blog refused to upload.) I was most sad, though, that Stan's birthday golf, which he was so looking forward to, was such an abysmal experience.
There came a point, on about the 15th hole (where I had already shot an 11 and a 9, and was well on my way to shooting a 10 on that hole and an 11 on the next), that I could not wait for this game to end. In fact, on the 18th, I shot my tee shot into the water (so did SW), and we both picked up and waited for SB to finish his last hole (with a fantastic attitude, I might add).
Final score: Annette 135 (yikes), Stan B 115, Stan W 106.
When we got home, Danielle, our lovely daughter, called to wish Stan a happy birthday. She asked how we were, and I told her that we were fine except that we had a horrible golf game. She said that's what I always say. I had to laugh, but I sure hope that broken record changes someday soon. I was hoping to get some new clubs on sale before the end of the year, but I've decided that I don't deserve a new set until I consistently play between 100 and 105, no matter where I'm playing.
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