Thanks Tex

Nope the Tex is not my husband, despite his years spent in Dallas.

It's Tex McReynolds, the balding, red-headed golf pro, who gave me golf lessons for too many years every Saturday morning. 

Not my choice. 

I'd have been as happy watching cartoons, reading a book, or just sleeping-in. 

Why couldn't I have been forced to take piano lessons instead?

Golf was never my thing. My father used to yell at me to get out of the woods when we played as a family. 

My ball wasn't there. 

I was picking blueberries. The tadpoles in the water where my ball went were more interesting than the next shot.

I did dip into playing a bit in the 1980s with fellow DCU staffers and enjoyed it, but after moving
to Europe it was too expensive. Too many other things were to be enjoyed.

Being married to an avid, former pro golfer hasn't upped my enthusiasm for the sport, although I'm more than happy for him to play whenever he wants.

But Tex brought me two very good things.

1. I understand what Rick is talking about when he talks about golf.
2. My putting was respectable when we played mini golf with friends. This was the first time I'd played in decades.

The weather was great. The grandson of my friends was a sweetheart. There were some challenges that left us laughing.

I guess golf is like riding a bike...somethings are never forgotten.

In any case Tex...thanks...