Fore!!!!

As anyone who has ever owned their own business knows, the life you had before is gone, baby, gone. You spend every day, 7 days a week, working and when you’re not at work you’re thinking about work, right?  Until something happens that makes you remember wait just a minute, hold the phone, stop the press. I used to do that! We recently had this revelation. 

You see, our oldest son started to play on the golf team and it reminded us that once upon a time, long, long ago we played too. Now, let me be clear that the “we” would be Jacob and I, with a strong emphasis on Jacob. He used to play at least a few times a month and he played junior golf as a kid. Now he is lucky if he plays a few times per year! (Usually in some tournament I have signed him up for and then only if he doesn't get called into the hospital). 

I, on the other hand, am sad to say, while I enjoy playing very much, I am terrible. I can throw the ball about as far as I can hit it. I am proud of the fact, however, I am single handedly doing my part to kill every earthworm on the course as my ball burns by them at a crawl. Maybe I just bump them on the head but at least I am contributing, right? When I am not swinging at the ball and.... missing (we don't count those), I occasionally get a piece of it and then after searching in vain for several minutes and holding up the poor chaps coming up behind us, I have to concede and drop a ball. (For the record we don't count these either.) 

Poor Jacob, his ball has been resting peacefully a mere foot or so from the pin for what in golf time seems like an eternity. I swing and miss again and start counting up my strikes. By my count I have been struck out the equivalent of a full inning in baseball. Jacob reminds me gently to take my time, nice and slow, pausing just at the top of the swing and then I swing with enough force to send him running and when I open my eyes the ball has indeed sailed a good 50 feet....behind me. This is talent, folks! I can actually replicate this exact shot almost every time. I wonder sometimes if I shouldn't just play the whole course backwards. 

My husband comes out from the nearest shrub to again give me a pointer (or ten) and say “hey Sammy (Sammy Sosa) we don't need a home run, just a single, easy now.” Then, as if I am getting prepared to launch a hand grenade, he hits the deck. Thankfully, I honestly don't mind him trying to teach me to golf. He is very patient and kind about our 4 plus hour golf games. I think he really just brings me along for the comic relief. When I finally do reach the green, the real fun begins. I can chip it on and off again in the same shot! (Oh yeah, I am that good!) 

Once I get the ball back on I can hit it 2 inches at a time all the way to the hole. I may not be consistent on the fairway but on the green, I am an amazing display of pin-point accuracy and consistency. 35 shots later, I have completed the 1^st hole. Only 17 more to go!

It is usually about this time that the little beverage cart comes around and my husband buys himself a water (enriched with barley and hops). He may need more enrichment before the day is through and I understand it is hard work playing dodge ball and golf at the same time. I tell him to think of it like cross training, only instead of alternating activities he is getting both things done at once. This may actually afford him time later for a nap, if he is lucky.  After 9 holes we are usually plenty warmed up for the back nine and my score is usually well into the triple digits. 

Jacob has taken up playing 2 balls simultaneously and is proud to be beating himself. At least it is a fair game, although I must admit I secretly root for the white ball with the x on it, not the white ball with the numbers. It definitely gets style points. 

When we finish up and head into the 19th hole, Jacob always adds up my score, subtracts 100, figures out my handicap and I manage to beat him. While I know he is the superior player between the two of us, the numbers don't lie. I always offer to buy him another “water” for taking his loss like such a good sport. We laugh at the day’s events and look forward to next year when we try and settle this grudge match. I think maybe I will take some lessons this year so I don't get an unfair advantage. I wonder if the coach will charge me extra for hazard pay. Until then, here is hoping for another day off, so we can hit the links....FORE!!!!!

A walk on the wild side.

Well, it seems we are taking an awful lot of walks on the wild side here at the Hospital lately. My family flew to Oahu to hang out with the giraffes and a Rhino last weekend. My brother and I were left behind here to watch the Hospital. No cake, no giraffes and no Rhino- super sorry I had to miss that one. 

Then this week Anne Goody from Three Ring Ranch came to us with a broken NENE (goose). It was hit by a golf ball on the golf course and suffered a broken leg. Anne brought it to my dad for x-rays and surgery. The real story here is not the break however, it is the the goose himself. You see, according to Anne, Goose 446 is a real ladies man and when he couldn't get his own lady, he seized the opportunity and misfortune of some other fellow. As the story goes, Don Juan de' la Goose, moved in on the poor chap's lady when the chap had to take some sick leave. She was a pretty little thing left alone with two eggs to care for and he, unable to start his own family, figured this little brood surely needed looking after. Well, he moved in on the misses and her two little goslings. One baby died the the other little gander thrived. Imagine Mr. Goose's surprise when he returned from being out for some much needed R&R and found some young Don Juan, had taken his place. Mr. Goose didn't have to try and get revenge though, Karma has a funny way of taking care of that, which was how my dad met Don Juan. After Karma had taken a crack at him, this would be the ultimate birdie.

Anne brought Don Juan in for x-rays and it was good news- a clean break, but it would have to be pinned. We scheduled surgery for the next day. It is not everyday we get an endangered species in the Hospital, and the staff was excited. When my dad got into surgery, he realized this was going to be much harder than he thought. There was a pretty good overlap of the bone and, despite being under anesthesia, Don Juan was not going to give up any muscle-tone, should the ladies of Waikaloa be watching. My dad tried to reduce the fracture closed but had to concede and make an incision. It took just a few minutes to get the bone ends to match up and then he advanced the pin and was done. Anne then applied her custom-made splint and the goose was back in business. I am wondering if this is a good way to play up the sympathy aspect of things. As for Don Juan, I think he has just been given the ultimate pick-up lines for a while. Hopefully he will not hit into any more water hazards. Karma is not as gentle when it has to give you a second reminder. Let this be a lesson to all. Mi Casa is not always su casa. Anne called us Monday to let us know that Don Juan was doing very well. Let's hope that leg heals perfectly so he can out-run the next chap whose lady he tries to steal. Personally, I think I would rather take my chances with the Geese of Waikaloa. That Karma can be a really bad dog. RUFF!!!