I had today off of work and pretty much did nothing that resembled work or chores, except a quick trip to the grocery store. First, I went to the batting cage where, having learned from my past mistakes, I was careful to observe which speed I was selecting.
I started out with some slow softballs. No problem.
After a couple of rounds, I switched over to the medium-speed baseballs. The change in speed and from softballs to baseball took some adjustment, but I started to hit my groove.
But then the balls kept coming.
And coming.
I started to think, "Gee, this round sure is going a long time."
Then it became clear that the machine was stuck in the on position.
I kept hitting, partly because I wanted to see if it would ever stop, partly because, hey, free rounds of baseball! (I was the only one at the batting cages.) But after awhile, I started wearing down. I was just half-heartedly swinging, barely even trying to make contact. It was more a battle of will than anything just because I like to see things through.
But eventually, I had to concede to the machien and walked out of the cage, dragging my bat from exhaustion.
From there, I went to the accompanying driving range. Now, I've never actually played golf. I went to the driving range several times in high school for one gym class I took (OK, I took it twice -- it involved bowling, too). I also play a fierce game of mingolf, and I've driven a golf cart around a course before. But that's it.
I was also using the range's crappy club -- a 3 iron that was too short, I think. So it wasn't a huge surprise when my first shot sort of bounced off the tee and down onto the grass.
Second shot: A total whiff.
But eventually, I inconsistently got the hang of it. I hit some that were in the 140-150 range. (I assume it was measured in feet, but it didn't say for sure.) And I whiffed on several others. One I barely touched and it rolled off the tee as if blown over by the breeze. Several I banked off the divider right next to me.
It's a good thing nobody was too close to me or, I hope, watching.
Anyhow, after beginning my quest for one of those stylish green jackets, I headed to a park called, I kid you not, Mount Trashmore.
It is, in fact, a giant landfill that has been covered over and turned into a park and accompanying lake with trails. And it's not nearly as disgusting as you would think it would be. It's kind of nice except that it's sandwiched between an interstate and a major thoroughfare, so the serenity leaves a little to be desired, but it's still a nice hill and lake and, judging by the other people there, a good place to fly kites.
After last week's feast, I decided to forgo the cooking and just got pizza and a movie ("Monster," which was ... eh).
All in all, not a bad day.
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2 comments:
c'mon, you only win in mini golf because you play against intoxicated girls and children.
I knew as soon as I posted that someone would catch me on my wording. You Cleveland boys are all alike! :-)
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