On a much happier note, my game is looking good. I’ve been hitting the driving range something fierce. My swing coach has reconfigured my grip. It’s been a struggle to get it right, but I’m definitely getting it right. Can’t wait to get back out there and pummel the ball. Those a-holes won’t know what the hell hit ‘em!

It’s taken months to get this group together. Hell, it may have taken a year. I stopped trying to keep track. We’ve had other dates booked, but for one reason or another (Bender), we couldn’t ever get the four of us together. Bender now swears that he’s got “Whitney under control” and he’ll be able to play every other week. I’ll believe it when I see it. For now, though, I’m going “glass is half full” and am going to be insanely grateful for the fact that we’re finally all together to partake in this glorious, godforsaken game that we call golf.

My late father-in-law, who taught me how to play the game, used to always ask (at one point during every single round, “You know why they call it golf don’t you?” Then, I’d play dumb and he’d answer, “Because f*ck was already taken.” I loved playing with him because he’d hit the ball 150 yards straight with just about any club. On in two or three. One putt. Par or bogey at worst. Every damn time. And he was 85.

Call it whatever you want. I’m going to call it six or seven glorious hours (including the post-round adult beverages) out of the house. Six or seven hours to bond with my boys – all of whom I have crossed paths throughout my life. From Bender who I’ve known forever to Timmy & Eric who I met in college. It’s an eclectic group….This is gonna be fun. Look out Eagle Falls…