Ever since we were back in the midwest for my grandma's funeral and played golf up there (more on the funeral in a separate post), my sweet husband has been mildly obsessing about this wicked game. I have played for years as most people know, but Justin is new to the sport. AND, given his uncanny atheletic ability, he's actually quite good for a newbie. He was hitting the ball high and straight. Not consistently, of course, but enough to make the rest of us groan as we knew that he would be hooked (and also: how in the world does someone that new hit the ball so freaking good?) And, it was enough to get him hooked on this silly game so ever since we've been back in Seattle his mind has been one tracking to how to play more. I blame my dad.
We've since each gotten a set of clubs courtesy of Justin and this crazy sport I have battled for years:
I actually am pretty excited because this is a sport I think we can both play together and get good at together. It doesn't make total sense now since I am huge and golfing is not exactly easy, but, hey, it makes him happy and sometimes that is what marriage is all about, right?
