Oh Boy!

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What a beautiful, perfect day for golf on Sunday.

I played really well too and was amazed at how great I felt.

Everything loose and pain-free on every swing.

I was good and tired when I went to sleep on Sunday night.

Yet, the older one gets, the more often you need to get up and hit the head.

I was awake at around 2::40 in the morning and my first step brought a huge:

“Oh no!”

I stumbled to the bathroom on one leg thinking:

“I broke my hip!”

I made it back to bed and crazily back to sleep.

Three and a half hours later I was hopping around wondering how I was going to get any work done.

It felt muscular and I reasoned that the best idea was to move around on that painful leg.

And I got through by replaying the entire round in my mind.

I hit a beautiful 110-yard 9-iron on the 8th hole. It was high in the air, right at the green.

Unfortunately I was only 95 yards out at the time.

That’s golf.

And my one thought was:

“I need heat and ice and a massage.”

‘Cause I gotta’ be ready to play again this week.

So, last night, some poor girl sat home, unaware that today she has the unfortunate task of working on muscles all around that sore, sore hip.

Wish me luck!

Getting old ain’t for the weak!

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