Today was brutal. It started when I woke up at 4:30 with my bladder screaming at me … it wasn’t really screaming, but it was making its presence known. I’m not normally allowed to get out of bed before it’s light outside, so my immediate challenge was to make it out of the bedroom in the dark.

That didn’t happen.

I put my arms out in front of me, waving them back and forth, just like the book says, to avoid having them straddle an open door which results in one running directly into the edge, with one’s nose, so I’m told, but I was disoriented and walked directly into Diane’s dresser which had been moved in the middle of the night. On it is meticulously stacked all manner of glass “things”. It made a lot of noise which distressed me for two reasons. One, of course, was that it would wake Diane, and the second was that something would break and I’d get double punishment.

Luckily, nothing broke, and Diane was already awake. Odd on both counts. Still, it made a lot of noise which scared me and almost prematurely ended any need for me to go all the way to the bathroom. While I was gone, Diane put the dresser back where it belonged and checked everything with a magnifying glass and determined that I was indeed lucky.

So, I went back to bed and fell right back to sleep and didn’t get up until 0830. I had to get up because Diane insisted that today I had to go golfing with the Peal brothers. I’ve talked about that before. We go once a week and I get some terrific hits and putts, but the overall result is normally terrible. I have the highest handicap in the mens club at the course. I’m very proud of that and work hard every week to keep it up there. Sometimes it’s hard to do when I hit the ball straight two or three times in a row. Yes, it’s a rare event, but it happens.

We all joined the mens club because it results in lower green fees. We don’t walk, either. Instead we take two carts split three ways. It’s only fair.

It was a beautiful day for golf. Overcast, and a little cool. Most of the mud holes were dried up but the grass is taller where they used to be because it was too soft the last time the fairways were mowed so they were skipped. Consequently, as you may have guessed, that’s where my ball always lands. Smack in the middle of the tallest grass.

Today was a record day, I believe, because I only lost three balls in the fairway. It’s easy to do because there are little white flowers all over the place, making it difficult to pick out the little white balls. It’s a visual challenge, but not one that we dwell on because we have absolutely no fear of just plucking another ball out of our pocket and hitting it from wherever we think the original ball might have landed. It’s a group decision. We also subscribe to the OMPH rule which is universally accepted by the PGA for all golfers not having any desire of participating in the big money games. That’s “One Mulligan Per Hole”. If necessary, we can use all nine on one hole, but that’s rarely necessary.

After golf I took my car, the little beat up 1996 Subaru, to the gas station. it uses so little gas I keep forgetting to do that. After getting gas I stopped to talk with Mike, who was working on his 1981 Winnebago, and made a new friend. Another candidate for the club.

When I got home I was in trouble because I’d been gone for so long. I think it was about 3 hours total. True, it was longer than normal for a round of golf, and it was OK when I explained what I’d done. But, that’s 3 hours during which no chores were done. I still have the bedroom windows to finish, but that won’t take long. I’ve been saying that for a couple of weeks, now. I pleaded my case for working on the Winnebagos a bit to make sure everything is working OK. The ’79 fired up after a little coaxing and ran like a champ. The generator cranked up, too. I let it idle for a while to get its juices flowing. Then I moved to the ’73 from which I’m still trying to extract the gas tanks to ensure they aren’t going to fall apart. The problem I’m having is getting nuts and bolts loose that haven’t seen a wrench in forty years. This is done while lying prone under the unit so the rust dust can adequately coat my face, and get into my ears when I attempt to dodge a particularly dense dusting. The up side of all this is that the rust doesn’t really taste all that bad.

I did some weightlifting today, too. I removed the batteries from the ’73, and the old ’68 pickup, and brought them to the garage so I could charge them up. They aren’t light by any stretch of the imagination, but they are easier to carry when you have one in each hand. If you don’t it yanks your body sideways resulting in a sore back the next day. So, I’ looking forward to that.

I put all my tools away about 1730 and took a shower to get ready for our Lions Club meeting this evening which is held twice a month at The Village Inn in St. Helens. They have terrible food so we tend to eat before going, but not tonight. I decided to give their BLTs another shot. The last one was pretty good. Tonight the waitress returned to report there was no white bread, my favorite, but they had sourdough and brown bread. I cancelled my order because BLTs on either of those types of bread isn’t legal in Oregon. But, Diane insisted I get the brown bread and “just eat it.” She didn’t actually say that, but it was evident that that’s exactly what she meant. I only eat white bread because my cardiologist told me it’s his favorite, too, and brown bread if overrated. I told the waitress this truth, then Diane said it wasn’t my cardiologist, it was my proctologist. I don’t even have one of those so I don’t know where that came from. I’m sure it was my cardiologist who told me that. I’m not sure I’d take advice about bread choices from a proctologist. Then, again, I might if the mood was right.

Now we’re home. Diane’s watching Dancing With The Stars, one of her favorite shows. She loves Tom Bergeron – I think that’s how it’s spelled. I must admit, he’s a funny guy. Short, and funny.

Now I’m going to quit and publish this. Look back often because there are bound to be corrections after Diane reads it.

Cheers