At the risk of alienating the Finders still suffering out snow, the park across the street from my place has been blooming for weeks…


I realize it’s ridiculous to have any grumbles at all when the forecast looks like this…


Except that my husband has fully embraced west coast weather by becoming a golf lunatic. Every time I turn around he’s heading to the driving range or hitting the links at some ungodly hour. When I mentioned he was at risk of breaking a body part from dragging a gigantic bag of clubs around 24/7, he went out and bought this…


Apparently you are no one unless you have a stroller for your beloved golf bag. Honestly, it feels like we’re approaching dangerous territory here, that this hobby may start to really interfere with Neil’s cooking for me. Saturday past he played in a tournament that involved a post game dinner, meaning I had to actually fend for myself (frozen pizza, I was exhausted). Does this man not realize that I am smack in the middle of growing my hair out? There’s only so much stress one woman can endure.

I knew the situation was spinning out of control when I came into the living room and found him in front of the TV in full golf pose, watching intently as some overly tanned expert in plaid pants gave instructions on how to maximize his swing. I know you’re thinking that’s no big deal, but did I mention he was holding a golf club? Naturally, I said, “Excuse me, love of my life. Why are you holding a golf club in the living room?” To which he wearily replied, “It’s a gap wedge,” (pardon me for living). I sighed, rolled my eyes, and went off to do normal person stuff. When I returned, I found my darling and somewhat sheepish husband patching the ceiling. It might possibly be the hardest I have ever laughed in my life.

After I recovered, I asked, “If I’d come home later would you have told me?” “Nope,” he said, “Well, I know not to do that now.” Now?? I may not know a bogey from a birdie but I’ve known not to tee off in the house all along. At least he’ll stop swinging clubs around the house long enough to descend into football hooliganism for the World Cup in June. It’s gonna be a long summer.