So yesterday was John’s birthday. It was the first year that I can remember that I didn’t organize and cook a Canadian Thanksgiving feast. Instead, since John’s day fell on our T’giving, we did our own thing. John decided that hitting up the driving range for a couple of hours would be a fun afternoon to spend part of his day and of course it meant that I get to join. I researched the local driving ranges in our area and opted for one that is pretty near our area as well as sounded most welcoming to our kind…..total novice amateurs. It said “family friendly”.
It sounds totally ridiculous but I managed to burn through at least three outfits before I decided on what would be “golf appropriate” before we left. Upon arrival we started to get really excited – it was a beautiful sunny day, kind of warm for October and it didn’t look too busy. We paid for our two baskets of balls and club rentals and were directed out the door to drop our tokens into the ball machine.
Oh the ball machine…..
So I walked passed half a dozen or so older men, very into their driving. It was quiet and intense. Then I spotted it…”The ball machine!” I ran to it with my two tokens (each for what we were told was about an hour’s worth of golf balls). I plopped the token in and….oh shucks….the balls came spewing out at record speed, spilling all down the aisle of the upper driving range deck. I noticed a heaping pile of empty baskets BESIDE the ball machine, slightly tucked in the corner. It was too late. They poured for several minutes while the old men turned and watched in disgust. There was one fellow who assured me “it’s not the first time that’s happened!” with a chuckle. He helped wrangle the rogue balls with us. John laughed. I wanted to cry.
After clambering to locate enough golf balls to moderately fill a basket, we walked to the furthest places at the end of the aisle….far from anyone’s whispers. After a while I gathered myself enough to start driving and we both ended up having a blast. We even got another basket (though I made John go get it and reminded him to use a bucket). After the first 30 minutes of humiliation, I admitted that I was having a good ol’ time at the driving range. Success at the expense of some dignity.
We concluded the day with a nice dinner out and a movie. Not too bad for a Birthgiving Sunday (the term that’s been coined for John’s holiday/birthday).
Packing continues….It’s a real drag but with each box filling up I get more and more excited for the move. I have learned that by organizing the packing with a slight schedule/plan helps, and so does beer and wine – for optimal enjoyment levels. We are planning to take our first big truckload over next weekend. My How-To-Raise-Chickens book has arrived and I am eagerly scanning the pages for the perfect breed. Oh the excitement!
Wine & Cheese or bust 
I am so happy that you enjoy the game of what i refer to as Hit and Hunt, also know to many as Whack! Fuck!. Glad you had such a good day.
Ooooh…chickens! I want chickens crazy bad, so I’ll live vicariously through you. Here’s what I’d get:
Aracaunas because they’re groovy looking, and because the eggs are pretty.
Frizzles because, well, they’re called FRIZZLES. And, once again, they look awesome.
Silky chooks are cool and all, but I hear they don’t lay eggs worth a damn.
Black/Copper Marans. Gorgeous dark brown eggs! Easy keepers! (at least according to my chicken friends)
Of course, I don’t know what the island has as far as livestock auctions go, but you can always come here or even mail order these days. Mail order chicken eggs…who knew?!