Absolutly nobody else cares about this

…but I learned something today.

So, for weeks, I’ve been leaving divots behind the ball, grounding the club way, way too early.

So today, at the driving range, I finally got the “lead with the wrists” and “hit down on the ball”. These things combine to ensure that you uncock your wrists at the last possible moment, so that the ball gets maximum speed, *and* get the ball lined up after the hips start the rotation away from the backswing.

Combine that with my 6th grip change in 6 weeks (thanks, Ray!), and I think I’ve made the transition from “really, really bad golfer” to “really bad golfer”.

(Another month at the driving range, and I may actually mean that!)

So why am I in trouble today?

…because at school, Grace was playing with the tea set. Her teacher asked,

“Are you making tea?”

And so, my daughter replied,

“No, I’m making Mexican Martinis for everyone, and I need olives, please!”

Ah, that’s my girl!

You know, I’m pretty sure she just wanted the olives…

A useless transition

Oh, yeah. I’ve started golfing.

Don’t laugh — it’s as close as I’ll ever get to real exercise.

Why announce it, however? Here’s why: I’ve finally made the transition from “Jerk with clubs in a cart” to “really, really bad golfer”.

Thinking about laughter

Today, we each had a turn watching Grace by ourselves. We all seemed to enjoy it quite a bit!

It struck me again — not that I’ve gone on about it here — that my favorite sound is her laughter. Grace has a fantastic giggle. Cy got back home before she went down to her grandparents’ to spend the night, so he got his good-night kiss and hug before she left. It quickly escalated to knock-me-over hugs (video forthcoming) and kiss-attacks, both of which invariably cause a bout of giggles. It was almost as much fun to be a bystander!

Later, on our way to eat, we started talking about her developing sense of humor. I was noticing the resurgence of the knock-me-over hug, and remembering back to the first pun she understood:

We were upstairs in Cy’s office, long before it became as messy as it is now. I was sitting on the rug (wait for it!), and she was handing out knock-me-over hugs galore. I told her to wait a moment, and grabbed the rug, and told her to give me another knock-me-over hug. She did, but I held onto the rug, and pointed out that it wasn’t a knock-me-over hug, it was a knock-me-over rug. I was rewarded with a fresh bout of giggles!

This was at about 18 months. (That’s a year and a half to you and me.) Before that, even, there was another event we love to remember:

We were watching some news channel. It doesn’t matter which one, but it wasn’t named after an animal. There was a doctor speaking on screen. He was wearing surgical scrubs, the full get-up, including the hairnet. The scrubs were of a uniform color, but the hairnet portion was mostly white with drawings on it. Grace watched until he came on the screen, then piped up,

“He’s wearing big girl panties on his head!”

It goes back to her first joke: she would take anything — paper, food, toys, anything — and put it on her head, telling us “Hat!” Sometimes, we still get that one!

How hot was it?

It was so hot, I put the top up on my car.

How hot was it?

It was so hot, I put ice in my drink.

Grace is growing up too quickly

So, at the company picnic, Grace and I swam in the Blanco river for about two hours, and oh! is my foot aching!

I’m putting her to bed, and she asks about my toe. Yes, it’s still broken. Yes, it still hurts.


What did you do when you broke your toe?


I said some daddy words

(actually, what I said was exactly “Motherfudger”, but she doesn’t even need to know to start from that one…)


What were the daddy words?


I’m not going to tell you


Just tell me






No, and stop asking. I’m not going to teach you daddy words.


Oh, just tell me and get it over with

Long traffic jams in small Texas towns leads to cynicism

So, we’re going to my company picnic, and there was the big motorcycle rally in Austin this weekend…

And, of course, there’s a fatality. On I-35 southbound. On our way to the picnic.

And, of course, all 3 lanes of the highway come to a (more or less) complete stop. Even the access road…

Two hours it took us to get through the town of Kyle, TX.

Cy said

I’ve never spent so much time in Kyle

My response? (rated PG-13) Continue reading “Long traffic jams in small Texas towns leads to cynicism”