Back in good form, I walked the Levy Trail Loop this morning in 30:46.
Joe walked across my head at about 5:30 this morning. To his credit, it only took two loud nos and one grab and replacement to the back-bedroom's back-wall side of my midsection to stop him. An hour later, when I was ready to get up, I awoke to him on another pillow, quietly looking at me. This relative cure has come about over the last six weeks, when I began walking him to a soon-closed-behind-him bedroom door rather than the front door of my house. It's nice to have smart pets (by which I of course mean smart relative to non-human mammals. No matter how smart dogs or cats are, including the smartest to have lived, if anyone had a child with the limited ability of the world's two primary pets, people would speak sorrowfully and admirably of them. "Poor Pete. His child Joe, as a ten-year-old, has learned the definition of one word. And Chris and Erin, God bless them. They have to walk their eighty-year-old daughter Scout through the neighborhood until she moves her bowels on a sidewalk. Those things would be nightmares for most us, but these wonderful people act as if they are delighted by their burdens.").
Ed, John, and I played Burns Park Championship Course on Friday morning. Ed scored 92, John 95, and I scored 98, with nines of 51 and 47. I used 34 putts. Whereas Wednesday I had nine pars, I had two yesterday. Late in the afternoon, I walked Levy Trail South in 33:09.
OVERHEARD "God, the fricking mud, man. Look at that." —Justin Thomas after his approach shot on No. 9 at Augusta National
No comments:
Post a Comment