Sunday, October 11, 2009

Walk of Shame

My dear husband Chad takes a turn at blogging about his adventure-filled day golfing with my dad.

Caroline has been asking me for awhile to make a guest appearance on her blog. I just explained that I do not want her to be hurt if I draw more comments, posts or whatever you do to respond to blog posts. Do not try to tweet me after this because I do not even know how to sign up for Twitter.

So this weekend, while Caroline was gone, her father and I decided we would play golf. We had not played in over a month, as opposed to this summer when we were playing each weekend. We had not reserved a tee time, so it was going to be hard to find anywhere to play. We had heard about a new course in Holly Springs called 12 Oaks, which has been getting great reviews. One drawback: it is not open to the public yet and only has 6 golf carts for the whole course. We spoke with the right people and were able to get on the course Saturday at noon, but we would have to walk the course because they had no available carts.

Now as you can imagine, walking a course requires much more effort than jumping into a cart after each hole. One of the primary reasons I took up this sport is because it still gets recognition as being a "good" workout when we all know that having that wonderful cart is the key to fooling everyone. This cart allows me to save most of my energy for hurling insults my father-in-law and throwing my clubs.

So we start walking the course at the 14th hole because the clubhouse is not finished and the starting hole is at the front of the neighborhood. The clubhouse is half a mile down the road so this should have been the first flag that this was a horrible idea. We played the first three holes and we in complete awe of this wonderful course. The greens were some of the most beautiful greens I have played on and the course layout was fantastic. By the third hole, my father-in-law begins to develop his famous "half sweat." This is a phenomena where half of his face says " I'm ready for formal dining" and the other half says " I have no business even going in McDonalds for takeout." Half of his face is bone dry and the other half is pouring with sweat. (Caroline's note: This medical phenomenon is an unfortunate side effect from a surgery my dad had done years ago. The "half sweat" is one of our favorite things to tease dad about.)

So after the next hole, I offer to switch bags because I figure why not, his seems to only be a little bit heavier. I was sorely was extremely heavier than my bag. We head the wrong way to the next hole and end up backtracking 200 yards to get to the correct hole. This is about the time we look at each other and do not say anything but we both have that look on our face "what the hell were we thinking??" We were slowing with each hole and then we see a glimpse of light. Graham, the manager of the community, rides by in a cart cheerfully to ask us if we are enjoying the course. We smile and say yes, even though we had just climbed a small mountain that nearly brought both of us to our knees... still, we do not even try to ask him to just take us back.

Now when my father-in-law and I are playing bad, we usually create our own tournaments to encourage each other's play. For instance, we had the "Bojangles Classic" at the Campbell University golf course a couple weeks ago. Well, to keep us motivated, we started the "Garlic Fry Playoff" (named after our favorite side item which is Tyler's Taproom's garlic fries). But this time, I think we both know we invented it to keep our minds clear of our obvious fatigue.

To cut this short, we play about 4 more holes and admit that neither one of us are "MAN" enough to do anymore. I actually have the nerve to call one of our friends to beg him to come pick us up and take us to our car. That failed. We continue to walk and see the clubhouse up on a hill like a safe haven. The only problem is that 10 foot embankment that is completely covered in underbrush separated us from that safe haven. Now we have no clue what is crawling around in this, but my father-in-law commences to push me in front of him to clear the path like a bush hog. So if there was anything in there to bite us, it would bring me down first and he could just use me as a stepping stone to make it to safety. We make it up the hill and then he gives me this speech about he would give me the keys to go get the car a half a mile away. This speech included phrases like "act of mercy" and " good son-in-law helping the elderly." I reach the car and at this point cannot feel anything below my knee caps. I pick him up and it goes like this:

F-I-L: "Did you thumb it?"
ME: " Are you asking me if I hitch-hiked a ride in a half a million dollar home neighborhood from people who are doing the Parade of Homes Tour?"
F-I-L: " Yeah that's what I am asking."
F-I-L: "See that is the difference between you and me. I have no shame. I would have had my thumb out within 20 steps. Thanks for picking me up big guy."
ME: "No problem man...lets just get the hell out of here."

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