Only in Texas could you attend a golf tournament in November and find yard-long margaritas next to hot chocolate on the menu, and see people drinking both.
God bless America and the great state of Texas.
The Nationwide Tour Championship was right in my backyard this past week. My usually quiet neighborhood was suddenly crowded with the droves of spectators and golfers who came out for the event. I knew this because I couldn't go anywhere without watching Cadillac Escalades circling, lost in my neighborhood because even the newest GPS systems don't show all of the new streets around here. I would know-- the tracking device on mine shows me as off-roading every time I leave my street.
I walked New York-worthy distances on Sunday afternoon, in boots no less across our golf course, remembering how much I enjoy golfing on a beautiful day and wondering why it's been so long since I last played.
My childhood was not spent in dance studios or at dress rehearsals. I actually took my first ballet class in college, (which is another story for another time). While other little girls were learning tap and jazz, I was learning to tee up a ball and mark a putt. I worked at a golf ranch in the summers and played on and off through high school. I think I can fully account for why I walk so quickly everywhere; I was used to being timed at 18-36 hole golf tournaments for years.
Anyway, this is the perfect time of year for golf in Texas. It's not too hot, for once, it's slightly chilly but sunny, and the scenery is great... not to mention you can finally wear one of those pullovers that makes a swishing sound while you walk.
I don't golf much anymore, but it's not one of those things you forget to do overnight. Golf has a feel; a rhythm, and it's completely psychological. You battle more in your own head than you do against the course, weather conditions or distractions. It's completely you; sinking a 12-foot putt is the ultimate satisfaction, just as misguiding a wedge shot is the ultimate annoyance.
I was getting the golf bug even before the tournament this weekend because my friend BF just got a new bag and matching golf shoes. They're mint green (golf should be first a foremost fashionable, after all). Now I can't drive past the driving range, which I do every day on my way to work without considering the next time I might be able to go out and dust off my driver.
I might just need to find some snazzy new shoes first...
"Golf is a game that is played on a five-inch course - the distance between your ears."