I love golf.

Posted By on July 15, 2010

I always love it. It’s peaceful and played in beautiful surroundings (says the woman with the jungle back yard), and having played, I still can’t imagine why someone (Mary Stuart?) once said–”Let’s hit this wee ball into that wee hole–way over there. You can’t see it, but it’s there. Let’s give it a try.” I remember watching golf when I was a little girl, and neither my father nor my four brothers would watch with me. This year, I’m so annoyed with Tiger Woods, whose “story” I bought all those years that I haven’t watched much, but today, they’re playing in my favorite place in the world. St. Andrews, Scotland.

As they opened the coverage this morning, I was agog–there’s the spot my girl finally gave up walking ruins and leaned into her brother, leaking tears while they waited for their father and me to come down from the tower. There’s the beach where we walked, watching the water and the birds and the kids hitting balls in the sand, while their father toured the golf museum. There’s the bridge where we took each other’s photos, waving. There’s the pot bunker where the girl stepped in and disappeared from view. There’s the little restaurant where we almost lost the car due to a parking faux pas.

I love St. Andrews. Perfect weather, perfect wild water, perfect pace of life. Wonder why I can’t persuade the beloved to move there?

I need to get back to work instead of watching golf in the best place on earth. Yesterday was an extremely productive day–2,763 words. Amazing what a writer can accomplish when she’s tired of writing scared!

Whatever your work is, I hope you’re doing it with abandon today!

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