The stuff nightmares are made of...

Note: This isn't the thing dreams are made of. At least not mine.

Nightmares. Big, long dark and horrible nightmares. What is it? It was golf. An innocent round of golf.

Riiiiggght.

It made me cry (more than once), cuss (more than once) and stirred up a nice big fight between me and my sweetheart. This isn't just a game folks. It's the Devil's tool at making me into a bad person.

I keep telling myself it's no big deal. But so far, I still manage to cry.

:::Sigh:::



So, next time I'm not going on a course. We're just going to take a couple of clubs to the driving range and practice making contact with the ball and making it go up in the air and in a straight line. That would be some SERIOUS progress.

Anyway, sorry for the no-post kind of week. I was out with some stomach issues. Still have no resolution on the diagnosis of the problems, but have ruled out returning to a local doctor for his complete lack of examining me and the stomach I was in complaining about. Yeah, why go into a doctor if he's not going to even exam you?!? Indigestion this is not folks. It's no where near indigestion and I don't need to hear, "take more fiber."

So, still no real resolution. I guess I'm just going to have to wait out the next 2 1/2 years until my sweetie's a full-fledged M.D.

Well, it's getting late and I must get to dreaming. And not about golf, either. I'm going to dream of a nice ski-bunny vacation without stupid doctors and without work. I can hear me swooshing now...