It Is Coming...

March is here. God is teasing us with the warm weather we've been having in South East Pennsylvania (I say tease because we are supposed to get like 3-5 inches of snow tonight). My adrenaline is pumping. I can feel it coming. I can smell it when I walk outside. Golf season is approaching. From around mid March until October I play, practice, and I am in my "zone" my "happy place." I have been getting the golf catalogs in the mail, I have bought a couple of new shirts for the season and I have a new thunderstick to put into play this year,



and I have been contemplating an on course GPS (cause Sharkey peaked my interest in them the other day):



One of my life goals is to one day have country club membership somewhere. I want to be able to play whenever I want. That would be awesome. It would be nice to also have my own wooden locker with my name engraved on it to store my clubs, shoes, some clothes, etc. I realize it is a dream. It probably won't happen until I am retired if ever, cause, well club membership is what my Sharkey calls, "chaaaa---ching!"

I have been watching the first PGA tournaments of the year on TV. Looking at the guys in short sleeves playing on the beautiful greens and fairways. I was glued to the set watching Tiger Woods return this week, but he was knocked out in the 2nd round,



as well as Phil Mickelson,



and my current favorite player Camillo Villegas:



So I lost a lot of interest in the main tournament after the above three were eliminated, but here I am on a Sunday afternoon still watching to see who wins.

Yesterday I went to the driving range to get some "hitting" in. That's my code word for driving range practice. Before I leave the house, I kiss Sharkey goodbye, and tell her "I'm going to go hit, be back in an hour." It was pretty crowded yesterday too. I guess a bunch of guys have the same addiction as me. Only the guys there yesterday were beginners. Balls and clubs were flying all over the place and they were giving each other armchair golf pro tips. "Keep your head down, don't twist so much, grip your club like a live bird, hit down on the ball like an axe..." The one guy I was next to was way scary. The stalls at the range have 3 foot high walls that separate them. Good thing too. This guy was hitting the side walls (thank God those walls were there or he'd have hit me a few times), the ceiling (which I'm not sure how he was able to do) and was burning balls to about 100 yards. He asked me how to tell how far his balls were going (the ones that actually did leave the stall anyway), so I showed him the sign in his stall that listed the yardages of the different range targets. And I was hitting pretty well yesterday, so he was trying to get some tips from me. I think my best tip was, "If you are going to take the game up for real, take lessons as soon as you can." =)