I swore I'd never golf. Up and down, really. I cursed the argyle; cursed the apparently overphilosophic monologues on the lessons of golf; cursed the conspicuous consumption; cursed the water-hungry, overfertilized greens pumping chemicals into the aquifer.
Oh, how far I've traveled.
Imagine that this sentence would ever emerge from me, and then marvel that it has:
The race at the California Speedway was cancelled due to perilously high winds, so we spent the day at the golf course instead.
It's a giggle and three quarters, I tell you.
In any case, golf surprised me. Not only did I enjoy it scads more than I was expecting to, but the physicality of it came as a bit of a shock. It hurts! My muscles are actually sore this morning. Trippy, no?