Katie: 1 Swine Flu: 0, Cameron: 35
Okay, so Katie just recently recovered from the flu. We're not sure which flu it was, but we're calling it the swine flu because maybe we can turn it into some sweet story about overcoming trials when we have kids or something. Anyway, after a week of taking care of a very sick Katie (and nearly getting sick myself), I didn't know what to do with myself. No direction, very little homework, no job applications to fill out (at the time anyway)... what to do? Call Cory and the cousins and go golfing, duh.
It was an amazing round. It was a solid round. It was ONE ETERNAL ROUND because it will live immortalized in my mind forever. However, let me say this: shooting a 35 is a sweet feeling, but not quite what you would expect.
To illustrate, let me reminisce. When I was eighteen, my dad took me skydiving for my birthday. I always saw those people with extremely hard corp bumper stickers that said something like, "I steady date death Himself--I skydive!" or whatever. I got the sense those sky-diving people were living on the edge. Well, after my skydiving experience, that perception all but crashed. My freefall felt less like "falling" than I thought, and it was cut short by a very painful parachute release (they should have a warning label on the leg straps--suckers are WAY uncomfortable on the way down). I wanted to feel like James Bond, and instead I felt like I'd just been kicked in the... well, you know.
Don't get me wrong, it was fun, and I'm glad I had the experience, but I waited for that edgy, "I'm so hard corp" feeling, and it never came. Forget those bumper-stickers man.
So, back to the 35 at the Old Mill. I have walked out onto the golf course a gazillion times thinking, "Man, those scratch golfers are so hard corp! How does it feel to walk out onto a course and just hit par?! I wish I could belong to that club." After a 35 on the front nine at Old Mill on Saturday, I now know that feeling. But where was the glory? The pillar of fire? The angels singing Halleluha! Nowhere! We finished the round. I asked the guy at the pro-shop if I got anything for shooting my first round of par golf. Maybe a free round, or a free bucket of balls at least. "No," he said, "just bragging rights." Wow. That's great. Bragging rights.
So here it is. Livin' it up with my bragging rights. When you belong to a religion that altogether doesn't allow bragging of any kind, unless it's on behalf of someone else, I feel a bit ripped off. But it is what it is, so, let me just say this:
Katie: 1, Swine flu: 0, Cameron: 35 (but not nearly so cool as Katie kicking the swine flu).
It was an amazing round. It was a solid round. It was ONE ETERNAL ROUND because it will live immortalized in my mind forever. However, let me say this: shooting a 35 is a sweet feeling, but not quite what you would expect.
To illustrate, let me reminisce. When I was eighteen, my dad took me skydiving for my birthday. I always saw those people with extremely hard corp bumper stickers that said something like, "I steady date death Himself--I skydive!" or whatever. I got the sense those sky-diving people were living on the edge. Well, after my skydiving experience, that perception all but crashed. My freefall felt less like "falling" than I thought, and it was cut short by a very painful parachute release (they should have a warning label on the leg straps--suckers are WAY uncomfortable on the way down). I wanted to feel like James Bond, and instead I felt like I'd just been kicked in the... well, you know.
Don't get me wrong, it was fun, and I'm glad I had the experience, but I waited for that edgy, "I'm so hard corp" feeling, and it never came. Forget those bumper-stickers man.
So, back to the 35 at the Old Mill. I have walked out onto the golf course a gazillion times thinking, "Man, those scratch golfers are so hard corp! How does it feel to walk out onto a course and just hit par?! I wish I could belong to that club." After a 35 on the front nine at Old Mill on Saturday, I now know that feeling. But where was the glory? The pillar of fire? The angels singing Halleluha! Nowhere! We finished the round. I asked the guy at the pro-shop if I got anything for shooting my first round of par golf. Maybe a free round, or a free bucket of balls at least. "No," he said, "just bragging rights." Wow. That's great. Bragging rights.
So here it is. Livin' it up with my bragging rights. When you belong to a religion that altogether doesn't allow bragging of any kind, unless it's on behalf of someone else, I feel a bit ripped off. But it is what it is, so, let me just say this:
Katie: 1, Swine flu: 0, Cameron: 35 (but not nearly so cool as Katie kicking the swine flu).
haha Congratulations Cam! I'm sure Kory admires you for your golfing accomplishments :)
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