Golf Self-Analysis

It's been officially one year this month that I started golfing. Hard to believe one year has passed since I started smacking balls around at the driving range, golf lessons and attempting to golf my way through various courses in and out of Arizona. For the first time golfer, hitting the driving range and lessons are a must. I didn't realize my swing was all over the place, until I took lessons. My golf pro instructor kept saying I was meant to play golf. I told him, you have to say that, because I'm paying you. Of course my swing wasn't nearly as bad as Charles Barkley. I've come a long way baby. During those not so great games, I often rely on my many excuses for my not so hot round. Like, (1) you can dress me up, but you can't make me play; (2) I shouldn't have eaten that giant bean burrito for dinner last night; (3) I am in desperate need of new clubs, because of course it's not me, it's the clubs; (4) evidently I need to drink another bloody mary to loosen up my swing; and (5) there is a cosmic force taking control of my ball. I also like to use the excuse that I have a remote control ball and someone has tapped into its frequency and they are making it drift right. Yep, right into the bushes or the sand trap. I also told my beloved Will that I evidently need a vacation in a tropical port, since my golf ball wants to beach itself. Next round of golf I'm going to bring an umbrella drink, play calypso music and plant a chase-lounge chair in the sand trap next to my half buried ball. Figure if I can't beat 'em, I'll join 'em. Beach Blanket Golf Bingo. Move over Anette and Frankie! (ouch, dating myself) Honestly, I'm having a great time golfing and look forward to the day when I beat the golf nickers (he actually wears shorts) off my man on the golf course. Yes, one day I will beat him. And that doesn't mean knocking him over the head with my five iron! That would break my club and make me iron deficient. Keep on Clubbing! Have a great Labor Day weekend!