November 09, 2009
It's November, Dude
This morning the dogs discovered a new resident of West 9th Street. An urban camper. He was still sleeping. And he didn't stir much when the guy in the Subaru SUV remote-locked the doors causing the horn to toot. He was prepared for rain, which never materialized last night:
The weather was superb; so, I played golf this afternoon. I waited on the tee for a threesome in front of me to hit to the par-3 14th hole. There's a small lake to the left and short, way short of the green, which comes into play on the 13th hole more than on the 14th; but the third player -- I would be using the term "golfer" inappropriately in this case -- did not hit it safe, which would be anyplace other than 90 yards and to the left, and splashed one in the pond.
He turned and said to me, "I feel like throwing this fucking club in the lake."
"Hey, we shouldn't even be out here playin' golf. It's November, dude. It's 70 degrees."
Posted by Bill at November 9, 2009 09:46 PM