It's a new Friday, crappy weather, nothing to do. Grandad's bored out of his tree, I suggested we walk up to the "Post". Maybe walking was a bad idea, it's cold and raw out and my fingers are numb. But it did just the trick, Grandad's smile came back with a pumkin muffin and coffee, and my mood got better after my #2 on wheat with just a hint of mayo and extra cranberry sauce.
On the way back home, we stopped in and got a couple buckets of balls. We loaded up the golf cart and headed for the range. Everything was looking good, a little wedge practice, some golf cart driving practice. Maybe take a ride around the course. 
But then I figured out that I was the target.
Grandad drove right by the tee box, out to the 100 yard flag and dropped me off. "watch the spin I can get on these" was the last thing I heard as he drove away. I am definitely going to need the motorcycle helmet if we do this again.
All is well now, after a good nap, I don't think anyone can tell I was the target. Next week I hit the balls and he sits by the flag. Love JackPS; The welt on my forehead is not from golf, or so Grandad says, I just woke up like this.
Hi Jack,
ReplyDeleteSorry I couldn't stop by this morning. Bailey got into a bit of trouble that we had to take care of. Maybe we can go with you next week to the "Post" and then shoot some golf balls. I'll help you shoot them REAL close to Grandad. He likes that kind of thing!
Love,
Grammie
Man Jack, now I understand how Grandad got so good at golf! Next week your cousins will be in town. Maybe you should bring Grandad here on Friday 'cause we have a bucket of balls he can use. (Since his eyesignt isn't what it used to be he might not notice they are foam - Shhhhhhh, don't tell him!)
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