Thanksgiving Walk and One Final Birdie for 2021

Written on 11-27-21.

        Let me see.  Who came with us on our walk this morning?  Two-legged: Belinda, Amanda, Kyle, James, Casey, Danielle, Brian (aka Yip), Cynthia, Luke, and me.  Four-legged: Kody, Pawz, Apollo, Moose, Yenta (sp?), Misty, and a timid, gray cat in a backpack that has a window orb thing for viewing the outside world.  The cat is named…well, I just learned it has changed names five times.  Only Cynthia and Luke really know.

Everybody except Kyle leaves in about an hour, and it has been a wonderful, relaxing, delicious Thanksgiving.  We pulled it off again, and the turkey was delicious and free after buy $150.00 in groceries at Safeway.  It was just under 24 lbs., and it cooked for 5.5 hours.  Yummy!  *Update: Danielle chose to stay until Monday.

On to golf…

I want to recount the most recent birdie from my round at Pinon Hills.  I picked up Herman, because he didn’t have a ride, so I was able to see where he lives for the first time.  Their home is near San Juan College, and I know the neighborhood, but I had never seen that part of it.  An older, maroon truck that belongs to his son was...

Am I Really Clark Griswold?

Written on 11-26-21.

        I said I would write about that nine hole round with Sam and Chelsea (not their real names) later, and it’s later now.  It was miserable and fun, I had said.  It was miserable, because they didn’t have a clue.  It was her first time, and he said he had played before, but his brother knew a lot more about the sport and played better than him.  It showed.

        When we met up by the tees on #1, the starter (Greg?) introduced me as Mr. Griswold.  He knew he had gotten my name wrong as soon as he had said it, but I helped him out and explained my name was really Patrick Swope.  I told them why he called me that, and it was because of our volleyball days when our co-ed team was called the Griswolds.  I told them about the station wagon, the movies, and how I was the character Clark.  We all laughed.  Greg blushed and apologized a couple of times.  

I remember Greg barely from tournaments in Farmington so many years ago, and he mentioned the ladies he played with, and their names sounded familiar, also.

It was also miserable, because I was giving tips to her when he should have been the one helping her.  I asked them both if I should keep offering advice, and they both loved that idea, so I gave tips here and there, mostly about etiquette (like how to mark a golf ball on a green) and simple goals such as getting it on the fairway and teeing it up when they were on the teeing grounds.

By the last hole, the miserable factor amped up due to their drinking, which also added to their already slower pace.  I saw her drinking what looked like whiskey on #8, and she was whiffing and chunking over and over and over again on #9.  It took a loooooong time to play that final hole, and I was ready to go home by then.  I was happy to say goodbye after nine holes.

It was fun, however, too.  It was fun, because they had some successes, and they both got so excited when they did.  It was fun to be a teacher and to just be mellow.  I knew I was only going to play nine holes with them, so I really didn’t mind helping.  They were very appreciative, and they said ‘thank you’ about as often as they had bad swings.  I really enjoyed their company, too.

I had also written above that I had tried something new that round, and I believe it was using only my odd irons.  I saw a YouTube video with the “golf sidekick,” and he recommended taking only clubs that would be my 100, 125, 150, and 175 yard clubs, so I took my Gap, 9-, 7-, and 5-irons.  I left my driver at home, and I used my 3-wood for the majority of my tee shots.  

This was his from his “Breaking 90” video, so I focused on getting my ball on the greens in just one over regulation and two-putting everything, and I nearly did it.  I hit two greens in regulation the way I am supposed to, and I only got two double bogeys.  I double-putted one of those greens in regulation, so I missed an opportunity to save a stroke there.  It does feel like I double-putt greens where I don’t get the GIR, and then I triple-putt when I do sometimes.  Pretty aggravating.

Until next time…

I have a birdie to write about next time, but it’s late.  It’s 10:40 now, so I should go to sleep.  Good night.

Birdie, Not a Birdie

Written on 11-14-21.

        I made another birdie later at hole #5, but I am not counting it.  My tee shot was scuffed a bit, so it didn’t get to the fairway, or even to a spot where we could see it.  This was from an elevated teeing ground.  When Greg and I searched for it, we couldn’t find it, and it could have been because of all the leaves.  It might have also been because my ball didn’t make it to the leaves and had gotten stuck on the hill and the rough terrain.  I dropped on the taller grass about 147 yards away, and I took my swing.  It landed on the green.  I made that putt from about thirty feet, and Greg made his, too, from about thirty-five feet for an actual birdie.  That was the only birdie he earned on the round.  So, if I play the “leaf rule,” I made a birdie, too.  If I play it tee shot-one, back on the tee-two, second tee shot-three, approach-four, long putt-five, I would give myself an “illegal” bogey.  That’s one of the discrepancies in my scores.

Written on 11-23-21.

I am relaxing in bed on a Tuesday night, the night before B’s and my 31st wedding anniversary.  B had dinner tonight with her sisters and then they went hot-tubbing at Amanda’s, so I am alone.  I dropped by Julie Greenwood’s to visit for a bit and drop off some flowers and a card, but she wasn’t there.  I left them behind the screen door in her little closed-in porch.  I am struggling to not write “their” instead of “her.”  Sigh.  She left a voice message when I was on my way home after going to Farmington to thank me and to let me know why she wasn’t there.  I will call her back or stop by again at some point.

I drove to (somewhere) to grab a (something) for Belinda for her birthday next month.  I bought some flowers for her, too, when I was at Safeway.  Those are for the anniversary.  

I also stopped by Dick’s.  I looked at the standing golf bags that they had in stock, and it helped me discover what I don’t want.  I am bombarded with the variety.  I have watched videos on YouTube, and I have read the reviews of many of the bags on Amazon, but I am struggling with a choice.  I decided I wanted to get a new bag this Christmas.  My Wishon bag is getting worn, and I have had to duct tape it in more than a few places.  The zipper for the golf ball area is not lining up well either.  

I also hit a Ping G425 7-iron for the first time ever there, but it just felt strange to have such a thin grip.  They can’t put oversized grips on their demo clubs, so I am not sure how I can really see if I would like them or not.  I could pay for an iron and have them put an oversize grip on it, but then I would have to pay for it.  When we were finishing up, he switched the upright angle from +2 to standard, and I made better strikes with that, but I had warmed up by that time, too.

Canyonlands, HideOut Golf Course, and a Rare Birdie

Written on 11-14-21.

        I am sitting outside our Baker Street, and this is what I am seeing.  A juniper is blocking the sun for me, hulking rocks are enclosing our Wooden Shoe group site, and Kody is napping in a spot he recently tore up in the peach-colored dirt.

We are enjoying our last afternoon here in Canyonlands, and it was around five years ago when we were here last for a Valentine’s Day trip with the Edgertons.  On that trip, we stayed in hotels, Marriot for the Egertons and Hilton for the Swopes.  Before that, it was 27 years ago with Char, Ed, and Dale when we camped at Elephant Hills Campground.  

We just drove through it fifteen minutes ago before this “quiet time,” and I recalled staying there at the end of Loop B.  We took a hike at the Squaw Flat and Big Spring Canyon Trail, and I remembered James in a “womb with a view” (a light blue wrap you could wear around your shoulders to hold a baby) strapped around Dale, and it looked like James’s neck was breaking as he slept in his little cocoon.  Babies are made of rubber, right?  Later in the hike, it looked as if Dale was having a heart attack.  His face was sooooo red, and he was sweating sooooo much, we asked if he was okay.  He bellowed that he was fine, so we kept going.  Thankfully, he made it back that day.  

It’s been a marvelous and mellow trip this time, although Eric didn’t come.  He and Kyle are learning how to para-motor in Phoenix.  They’ve sent numerous videos of take-offs and landings, and we are all impressed with their courage.  I understand that it saps their energy quickly and tremendously, too, with all that running.  Kudos to them both for trying something new.

I have set up my little table outside our Alto (I picked it as an extra option for just such an occasion), and I just used it by writing postcards to my family.  We took a short hike this morning around Cowboy Camp with...