Sorry it’s been awhile since my last entry. Just too hot to write. Wait..why would you have to go outside to put a few words together for a blog? Oh, alright..that’s just an excuse. It’s laziness plain and simple plus a total lack of anything happening in my life that’s worthy of sharing.
The heat is good for one thing; those annoying earwig bugs which had started to find their way back into our house, prefer wet and cool. I haven’t spotted one for a while. I hope the next one I see is dead on the sidewalk fried to a crisp.
I actually had a blog completely written and ready to post on Saturday. It was a rant about the ease at which county commissioners opted out of the property tax freeze again and socked us with a 4 million dollar plus bill (More than what was requested but since it would be inconvenient for commissioners to have to take up the issue again next year..they figured, what the hell, let’s aim high.) I also commented on the need for this increase which is primarily to cover the costs of a crowded jail and court system. How long has it been since the new jail was built to cover our population needs well into the future? I also went on about these federally funded crackdowns on local crime (“100 days of heat” or some such nonsense) especially those traffic checkpoints where a bunch of cops with red lights flashing gather together on a busy street or highway stopping everyone in sight even if they’ve done nothing wrong. If they’re not drunk, they may get nailed for not wearing a seatbelt or some other high crime or misdemeanor. There’s just something to me that seems un-American about motorists needing to prove their innocence. Besides, if the jail is full, why go in search of more patrons on the roadways? Wouldn’t time be better spent cruising those dubious neighborhoods in town where the odds of nabbing someone for illegal activity are much greater rather than those questionable highway flock shoots?
Anyway, as I was posting the blog I accidentally erased it. I concluded it just might have been a divine intervention; the good Lord trying to protect me from another public outcry in the comments section; instead of vicious dogs it would be ridiculous claims I’m somehow in favor of drunk driving.
I did spend Tuesday and Wednesday bonding with my golf pals as we took our show on the road to play both courses in Mitchell and the McCook Country Club in Salem. Six of us made the trip; the three smokers in Bob’s vehicle Denny, Digger and me in the other. Our first stop was in Montrose because Gary and Jerry had stopped there for breakfast at the Irish Pub before and said it was great. Since both pride themselves on their cooking prowess, we took them at their word.
Not Dublin..Main Street Montrose
I’m afraid we sort of overwhelmed the morning café staff but eventually the food arrived and met with everybody’s approval.
A bit blurry but left to right are" Denny Graves, Jerry Backer, Bob Miller, Gary Hockenstad (next to Bob) and Denny Will (Digger)
Brennan Yeo
After playing 9 holes at Salem we headed for Alexandria.
During hunting season, Gary is the chef at Granite Springs Lodge just outside of town. He managed to convince operator, Brennan Yeo and his wife Jen to put us up for the night at a great rate that included kitchen privileges.
The lodge is only a few years old and just a lovely setting with a lake full of fish out the back door and thousands of acres of prime pheasant hunting at its disposal.
We unloaded and made our way the 12 miles to Mitchell and Wild Oak golf course. The temperature at tee-off was 92. We’d already played 9 holes earlier in the day at Salem and the odds of me surviving another 18 weren’t good. But, thanks to plenty of water (which we had to purchase at a dollar a bottle..there was NO water available on the goofily laid-out course) and a nice breeze..all of us breezed through; urged on, no doubt, by the thought of good food and beverages waiting back at the lodge. Well, not exactly waiting; we’d brought along all the food for the three cooking experts to prepare. They’d made up so many appetizers that I hardly had any appetite left for the main course of burgers, sweet corn, potato salad, baked beans, scalloped corn, peach pie and pecan pie. It was nearly 11 before we drifted off to our rooms as stuffed as the mushrooms we’d devoured earlier on the horsd’oeuvres table.
I’m afraid by the next morning, it had turned pretty chilly. Not the temperature but my chums toward me when I didn’t emerge from my boudoir until 9:30 a.m. They’d all been up since sunrise, already enjoyed a big breakfast consisting of French toast, eggs, hash browns, bacon, biscuits and gravy. The place had been cleaned up, the cars were loaded. They’d been ready to go for hours.
Digger is finally elected to get my arse out of bed
There was a cup of coffee and a Styrofoam box with some food in it for me but not a lot of conversation as we headed back to Mitchell and 18 holes of golf at Lakeview.
Names of wildlife instead of numbers on each room. I was staying in Bass. My friends, frustrated by my extended slumber, wanted to add four more letters to that name.
I’ve always liked playing Lakeview even though there are no actual views of nearby Lake Mitchell. It also plays a little longer than it used to since geezerhood has caused our shots (and everything else) to be shorter. I was actually surprised to see the thermometer on Digger’s Lexus read 96 degrees when we pulled out of the parking lot and headed for home. I’d somehow managed to dodge another heat stroke bullet thanks to lots of ice cold beer and, perhaps, the residual effects of those icy stares from earlier in the day.
