Chris is playing golf with his co-workers Friday. Chris doesn't play golf. He doesn't practice enough to be any good at all.
Tonight he thought he would practice. The plan: Go to the local driving/miniature golf range (if that is the right word for a place to miniature golf). Play a quick round of miniature golf. Hit a bucket of balls.
The reality: Go to the miniature golf land (range couldn't be right). Remember at the first hole that half of your group is under seven and are experiencing their first game. Realize that you'll be closing down the place to finish the game. Relinquish control of the evening. Resolve to apologize and thank the workers for allowing you to finish the game.
It was cold before we arrived. Abigail picked the shiny purple ball and was handed a perfectly pink putter. Simon picked the dark blue ball and was given a slightly too tall blue putter. I got my green ball (always green). Chris his yellow. He brought Uncle Jimmy's putter. It is his and he thought to practice with it.
We laughed and instructed and laughed some more. Simon's golf looked a little more like a hockey game. His final score landed right around 157. He claimed several 20s and at least one 35. Abigail struggled to figure out how to do it right (there was lots of instruction in the proper form for miniature golf from a physics sort of perspective, hmmm.) She scored 89. I think if you adjust for age and experience her handicap would make her the winner. Needless to say, one of the grown-ups won. The one without all the physics experience (wink).
We came home to chocolate cake made yesterday while I was recovering from a goofy one day flu. And the winner whipped up some hot cocoa. The children are falling asleep, and I'm planning a few uses for the three bushels of apples sitting in the basement.