Thursday, November 17, 2011

Bean Loves Golf

Years ago I wrote a post about the Poons trying to teach me to golf. I had new clubs from some stint I did as an editor of a luxury magazine. Those same delicious Chocolate Moda golf clubs made an appearance this past spring as Skip departed some wisdom. Blue and plaid checkered golf bags and accessories...dee-lish.

"You have these great clubs, but you suck at golfing. We can't go together until you learn. Let's sign you up for some community lessons."

And so we did. I went to weekly lessons and listened to a golf pro and then came home to share my new knowledge. I wore cute skirts and bright outfits I bought just for golfing to make it fun. That knowledge was then tweaked by the man I married who claimed to know more than me because he's played on elite courses around the world and was editor of Luxury Golf & Travel. Whatever. I vaguely remember him looking quizzically as I summarized lessons and then politely telling me I'd misunderstood.

 With the pressure of girly looking clubs and professional lessons I invested in a golf outfit: skirt, shoes, shirt. Then I waited for our cold May to warm up. My perfect outfit never made it to a golf lesson, but I just knew that mid-June would be filled with golf dates. I even prepped some of our couple friends for Saturday outings. When June came my dates were with the toilet and standing in the unbearable heat, impossible. Who knew pregnancy would come so soon? And with such utter disregard for my summer plans. 

I didn't make it for golf dates in July, August or September. In October Skip found camo more appealing than pleats and it wasn't until a cold November weekend that we finally had a golf date. I enthusiastically laid out my perfect golf outfit and addressed the cold weather with some long johns. The first layer went well, but by the second all the tugging and adjusting didn't make up for the fact that my stomach was three sizes too big. Pretty soon I was in my goose down snowboard jacket and beanie. But we had a grand time and on the 18th, I ripped one with my eight iron that actually looked remarkedly like a decent ball strike and Skip was shocked.

Our golf date turned into our first family outing.