Be Afraid, Be very Afraid

Well now here we go. Deja Vu all over again. I was seriously hoping that it wouldn't strike again, at least for a while. I do know now that this affliction is not fatal. It causes severe, tremedously painful head aches (note: buy SAM sized bottles of Ibuprofen) painful stomach pains (heartburn) and causes men to mutter under their breaths and walk around in circles babbling incoherent foreign phrases.
What is this affliction you ask? WEDDING PLANNING.

Men will come to realize that their checkbook is their most prized possession. Their opinion is asked for only to provide comic relief for the planners. Men are required to write the checks and do the heavy lifting. Life as we know it is put on indefinite hold. The world now revolves around the bride to be and her mother

To make life easier, stand in front of the mirror and practice looking genuinely interested. If the proposed wedding gown is the most hideous thing on the planet, you must look impressed and say things like "it's very pretty" or "I really like that long trailie thing". Utter just one negative and your life will become hell on earth. So practice, practice, practice.

Never mention that it's too expensive. Never complain about all the bride magazines your mailman is now delivering in a large truck. Try to find a corner in your garage or workshop and get really really small. (you can't have mine--it's taken)

Take 2 prilosec OTC, with a double shot of bourbon and endeavor to persevere.

My Father

My father was quiet. My Father was strong and he was gentle. He was an unassuming role model. He was respected by those who ever met him. He was a teacher with even knowing it.
While I was growing up I thought my dad was a stiff necked old jerk. As a teen I thought he was so far out of it that he didn't have a clue. I hated him when he took my car away and grounded me for ---gasp---skipping school. I was furious when he cracked down on me and actually made me study and get good grades and graduate from high school.
I thought I was getting even with him when I enlisted in the Air Force and left home. I completely missed the look of satisfaction and pride on his face.
After 8 hears in the service I was amazed at how smart and wise he had become. I miss him.
He had a way of looking at things and finding humor in the most ridiculous things, like teenagers with spiked hair and so many body piercings they set off metal detectors from a block away. Instead of sneering and looking down on them he would make some funny remark and act as if he knew that the kid would one day be a CEO of some high tech company. One of his favorite past times was to set in the Boulder Mall (the center of the universe for nuts, whacko's and crazies) and just watch the show. He called it a free circus side show.
My father respected women, but absolutely doted on my mother. According to him she walked on water, hung the moon and never ever did any wrong. This attitude made him even more attractive to other women. He had women practically throwing themselves at him. Like water off a ducks back he just ingored them. He used to say "why go out for hamburger when I have steak and champagne at home".
My father never pulled his punches. He would tell it like it was. If someone was being rude or an ass he would look them in the eye and tell them they were an ass. Yes, on more than one occasion he looked me in the eye and told me I was being an ass. He had a nick name given to him by his co-workers in the Air Traffic Control Center. They called him Iron Head or Old Iron Head.
When I went to work for the FAA and moved closer to home we started to spend more time together. We played golf together. Golf with my dad was like an 18 hole, 3 hour stand-up comedy show. (More about that in some future post)
We went fishing together. Many quiet hours spent together dissecting and curing the woes of the world. He was a sailor and was pleased when I learned to sail. But he was ecstatic when I sold my sailboat and bought a fishing boat. I kept the boat on Lake Granby west of Denver and made him his own set of keys so he could take her out anytime he felt like it.
We became very close when we were building his retirement home. Many thumbs hammered, many knots and bruises later we had a beautiful home for him and my mother. They designed it together with family and grandkids in mind. They were going to spend their golden years there.
My father died less than 6 months after moving into his dream home.

June 18th is Fathers Day. A day of the year where sons and daughters buy funny cards, ugly ties and useful gift certificates for their fathers. I don't do that any more, but I honor my father every single day of the year by trying to be what he was.

Golf is good

The 2006 annual golf tournament is in the record books. The last putt has dropped, the last steak consumed and the last drop of sunburn lotion used up. A good time was had by all. There are some conclusions that I have drawn from my 3 day experience in glorious Goodland.

1. Sugar Hills golf course is one of the prettiest in the country.

2. I still can't hit my 3 wood.

3. I am an amateur curmudgeon. There were some real pros on the course this year. One of them was in my foursome on the 2nd day. He didn't like anything that was going on. On the course or off. He let us know how he felt about how slow the play was. Why we always had to wait to tee off. It was ruining his game. We heard "how can anyone take so long to find a lost ball" and "why would anyone need to stand over their ball that long just to hit it."

Golf is supposed to be a gentleman's game. At least that's the way I play it. I try not to upset the other players in my group with my grousing. I keep all the bad words to myself. (usually). This pencil neck complained loud and long about everything. "Play is too slow" "Tee's are too far back" (boo hoo) Handicapping was done wrong. (Only if you don't think the USGA knows how to handicap) Not enough food at the (free) lunch. Too hot...Too windy. On and on and on.....

I am working at being a good curmudgeon, but after playing 9 holes of golf with this mouth I can see that I have a long way to go. Stay tuned...I took notes.

On a happier note. 45 holes of golf is always a pleasure to me. Good shots, bad shots or missed putts and lost balls...It's always a good day on the golf course. And playing Sugar Hills with my Father-in-Law is double good. Between us we managed to win $120 worth of prizes (even a blind squirrel finds a nut sometimes). Over all I would rate the golf scores as awful but the experience was awesome. I am looking forward to next year. We'll get 'em next year.