If there is one sport I knew I would never enjoy playing, it's golf. Just my luck, I marry Jared who is head-over-heels (if that's even possible for a guy) about walking around for hours on end with an immense amount of patience hitting a tiny ball into a 4-inch diameter hole hundreds of yards in the distance. Yuck!
But I have surprised myself again and think I might be coming around. Every now and again I'll commit to go to the range with my hubby. I usually try to hit a few balls, get extremely frustrated as I don't even knick any part of the ball, and then take a seat and wait it out as J finishes the bucket. Today presented a new and interesting experience: I hit the ball, and I hit it far enough to measure the distance in yards! I am a happy girl.
Here's my little Tiger:
P.S. We didn't go to the desert. Who knew it was possible to take such terrible care of a course, and we're in Seattle where it rains 340 days a year. What the heck? We roll high class.