cheerful plans

The sun is finally making a regular appearance. I went golfing with my Wednesday nine holers. Shot an 80 for nine holes. To be clear, I was pleased with that score. That is the difference with nine holers compared to other golfers. I remember when I  used to shoot over 100 for nine holes. My next Wednesday  round I shot a 69, also a happy score for me. Nine holers are all over the place. Last time I played was in December. I couldn't get a shot off the tee, ever, the whole round.

   I was making great contact with the ball off the Tee and on the fairway, between the not so good shots. My distance was great. I figure all that yard work clipping berries with my hand shears has paid off. Upper body strength has improved. Just like when I was doing the free weights to muscle up.  Tom's loving comment was that I was putting my weight behind my swing to improve my game. A reference to the fact I am getting heavier. I laughed and swatted at him. He was at the other end of the phone staying at the work, so the swat didn't hurt. The golf should help with the weight gain. I  walk the course.

I am a rotten putter. If I could get consistently 2 putts, that would account for nine strokes or more right there.

 Coming in for lunch and hanging with the ladies is as much fun as the round. We get to hear about new babies in the family, or graduations of grand children. I love the continuity of  life through the generations. It makes me happy. Sometimes I think of my Dad who passed away and how he isn't really gone as his gene pool still goes on in our children and eventually in their children. I look at the women around the table at lunch and know that they also feel that joy in life knowing that their children and grand children and great grand children keep them alive, that dead spouses still have a connection in this life with family. The women plan trips to see family, have children visit. They are kept busy with family interests, proud of all those small accomplishments of their children and their children's children.   


The rounds of golf are motivating me to take the boys out. It has been a while. They are older and supposedly wiser now. Less likely to attack each other with a club or walk in front of a swing, or fight over who's turn it is. Golf when they were younger was about as challenging for me as a parent as when I made the mistake of taking them both up the chair lift with me skiing. It was the bunny hill, but  disastrous anyway, since I could not get them both down the hill at the same time between my legs, which was how I got Trevor down the hill. Riley hitched a ride on the back of a ski patrol snow mobile before I could get back to him. We have never been a patient family.

Golf is a lot about manners on the course. Waiting patiently for your turn, yet also knowing when to take a shot to keep the pace of the game going, not to hold up the field. When to talk and when to be silent, something I have to remind myself of when I play, being the chatty kind.

I was getting distance on my Tee shots and my fairway shots, only to land in the sand by the green or four putt within three feet of the hole.  I could see, with practice, that I could have a good game on this summer. Taking the boys out would get me another round in during the week. The boys have less than a month left of school.  Golf might be just the ticket to get them out of the house and away from that TV game center in the basement.

We have lots of fun plans for this summer. Our friends from Utah are coming to stay in July. We are going to go to the beach. We are planning that fun family trip to the mountain when my Sister arrives from back East. Tom keeps saying how its all his own fault for introducing that vacation site to us, when he can't stand it, and we all think it is the coolest destination. I am looking forward to swimming in the lake and rowing a boat with all my nieces and nephews with us.

I will need to stock up on hot dogs for the summer. Trevor has become picky as to the hot dogs he eats. He wants pure beef, not the cheap 89 cent blended meat package he has been living on forever. He has started to read the packaging labels. Pretty soon I will be buying those really expensive gourmet dogs my sisters buy for their families. Problem is Trevor eats twice as much as everyone else. Keeping within the budget is challenging. Luckily the boys like soup. I can cook Tom something just for him as he doesn't like just soup for dinner. Feeding  the boys soup goes a long way to feeding Trevor.

I had to buy two roasted chickens last time I went to the store. One for the first dinner, and one for the soup dinner. A couple of years ago, one roast chicken would have been enough for both meals. Now there is no meat left on the bone for the soup with just one chicken.

Riley bakes a cake every other night or so. I tried not to buy the box mixes for a while but then he started using the random ingredients of flour and chocolate and eggs and making up a recipe. Only half would get eaten because it was OK but not great. Enough to stave off the sugar cravings for an evening but not good enough to be eaten as left overs. Use the box mix and there was no waste.  The boys would fight at breakfast the next day for the final slices. I try to let Riley have the last slice as he made the cake or brownies and Trevor doesn't need it.

Trevor is over the weight limit for scouts by two pounds. They have a comfort margin. they feel to participate in some of the more athletic activities the scouts need to be within a certain weight range. A little exercise would not go amiss with the boys.

For Mothers day the boys gave me hugs and got a lecture from their father. Trevor gave me back a $20 bill I had given him for a scouting activity and told me to go treat myself to a spa. I broke the news that $20 would  not even  cover a manicure. A day at the spa would run easily $200. Ahhh, the thought was delightful if only the budget was willing.

 The next day I took the boys, after school, to a plant nursery and made them assist me in picking out a rhodedendron from each of them, which is what I had asked for. I had said no jewelry as I had been to plenty of parties recently for jewelry. I wanted garden plants for my yard. The boys were bored with the activity of plant hunting and reading labels since I was really picking it out, not them.  but I wanted the muscle, as the plants were heavy and I was ordering  the bag of bone meal, the chicken manure, and the play dirt to help transplant them in good health. Those bags are heavy. Riley and I together had to pick up the bag of dirt. When we got home,  I dug the holes where I wanted the plants to go in the back yard and enjoyed fussing over the plants. I got exactly what I wanted for mother's day, just a day late.

I had called my own mom to wish her a good mother's day. I invited her over for a BBQ, but she had been working with the election board this week counting votes. Exhausting late nights had worn her out. She wanted to just have a quiet weekend and enjoy her own gardening. Gardening can be a very soothing and relaxing activity, as nurturing in its own way as raising children. The garden only talks back if it is neglected.

I added bone meal and chicken manure to those boxwoods I put in last month. I am giving them lots of love in hopes that they all take to their new home after being ripped from the ground by a tractor at their old home. They are looking subtly better, but it will be a couple of years before I know for sure that they will survive and flourish. Meanwhile I spoil them with good nutrients and pampering.

This morning I awoke and looked out the window to see  four deer in my back yard. I watched them with both enjoyment and caution. I didn't want them eating my newly planted rhodes or Dogwood.  The Rhodes should be safe. Deer don't like to eat their tough leaves, but I am not so sure about my new Dogwood with it's pretty white flowers. As soon as I thought they were getting too close to the new plants, I let the dog outside to chase them off. The moment the door opened, the deer leaped away. I have sprinkled the plants with the stinky chicken manure. I am hopeful the odor will be a deterrent. The dog on the other hand loves manure. Fresh deer manure is his new favorite thing to roll in. I had to bath him in the sink after his adventure of chasing the deer and discovering fresh green deer poop in the yard. If he keeps the deer away from my garden, I can't complain.