Hot Hot Hot
Like, 111 hot. I mean, it's not oppressive as some have said. Of course, it's not even July yet, but man it's hot. Every other night or so, we usually go for a walk after dinner, and the weather is quite pleasant. Dry, in the low 90s or so. So warmer than I would prefer, but Judy's in heaven. Tonight, at 8:00pm it was still 103. Humidity at 8%, though. I'll take this over 92 and 90% humidity.
Yesterday, for father's day, Judy and Ciela took me golfing on one of the courses nearby. As I've mentioned before, we live in a rather posh area, and most of the courses are private and expensive. But this is a public course, with a really nice layout. And since its so flippin' hot, the greens fees are reasonable. We played 18 w/cart for $16. Plus, I played the round solo because there were so few takers.
Because I was playing solo, I kept unintentionally pressuring the guys ahead of me. On a par four, they motioned for me to play through. I had hit a pretty nice drive to the middle of the fairway. But with four guys watching, I absolutely shanked the approach 45 degrees right and into the wash. We were lucky to find the ball.
About 6 holes later, I caught them at the tee as they were driving a par 5. They told me to go ahead and play through. So now, not only have I embarassed myself earlier, I have to do it again from the tee with all four right there. And for some damn reason, I crush the ball, and hit a 180 yard drive (which isn't all that long for real players, but for me...HUGE). And it goes right down the middle of the fairway. I get way too much pleasure from this very expensive, rather silly game. (Did I mention I was playing with Judy's clubs? Man I'm good).
Ok, so here's the truly bizarre element of the day:
Before the round, when I'm checking in at the clubhouse, the pro is out of the shop tending to some problem on the course, so some young college age guy takes my info, but can't run the credit card. So we're waiting around, chatting, and I mention we've just moved from Nebraska.
"Anywhere around Omaha?" he asks.
"Omaha itself," I say.
"My girlfriend just graduated from Creighton, so I've spent a fair amount of time there." (okay, he probably didn't say "a fair amount of time." He wasn't that pretentious.)
"No shit." (I'm sure I said "No shit." I am that coarse.) "I have a few friends that teach there. What did she major in?"
"No shit! My friends all teach in the English Dept"
"Wow, you know David Gardiner?"
"Yeah, she's over in Ireland now with the Irish Program."
"Holy shit. She's Nainsi Houston's assistant!?!"
So, I've heard of this guy. Not much, but I knew that he was going to meet his girlfriend in Dublin after the program and they were going to tour Europe.
I move 1000 miles to a state where I know nobody, and on the spur of the moment, we decided to go golfing, and the pro is busy when I check in so I'm forced to do a little small talk with the guy manning the desk...And I know who he is.
We rich white people move in very small circles.