Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Programmed
As I talked to Nicola on the phone last night -- she and Lindsay are still in Oregon -- I heard the Magic Bean crying in the background. And I was almost moved to tears -- I think it was a distinctly biologically programmed reaction a parent has to hearing his or her offspring in distress. The emotions -- missing the adorable little puddle of drool after 4 days -- are genuine, don't get me wrong. But I think they do originate from some hard-wired impulse: baby cries, parent responds.
Even more amazing: how Nicola and I have fought this natural caregiving instinct over the past couple of weeks as we helped Lindsay figure out her sleep schedule. I guess a few days of quiet around the house made me miss even the wailing.
10 days away from the family -- not something I'd like to repeat again soon.
I went and worked on my golf swing last night in preparation for my trip to Houston. I play less than five times a year, which is probably one-tenth of the amount I should play to get any good. I am resolved to being less than mediocre...but "Golf for Dummies" beckoned at the library, so away I went. My grip was wrong, my alignment sucks, etc. and so forth. It's a long list of flaws, believe me. I tried to keep the mindset that I was experimenting: "Gee, what happens when I slow my swing down and accentuate the turn in my hips?" But that gets old when you are actually missing the ball during this experiment.
My game has been crappy but predictable: a god-awful slice, profound lapses in concentration during the short game, so-so putting and the occasional purely struck shot that brings me back for more. This is the golf game that produced both of these in the same round (at Myrtle Beach during a bachelor party): 1) a glancing blow off a course ranger's golf cart, as he was driving between fairways to investigate our group's slow play and hijinks; and 2) a gently slicing driver off the 18th tee that bounced into the clubhouse parking lot and landed in the backseat of a car (the door was fortunately open, the car surrounded by golfers packing up their gear).
Now -- my quest for improvement may lead me to be even worse than I was. Oh boy. Nothing like facing with dread a 5-hour round of golf in the July Houston heat.
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Rescue Me last night: another fine show, highlighting the characters' shortcomings and failings. There are no heroes or completely likable people in the show, which makes it more interesting to me...and at times painful to watch. I do find some of the foibles to be cliche...but I suppose that doesn't make them untrue. And I thought the "firebug" storyline was a bit predictable. Heck, there was a lot that was predictable about the episode, but I still enjoyed it. Beats just about anything else on TV...besides the train wreck that is "Sports Kids Moms & Dads." I've mildly kvetched before about my parents' lack of interest in my athletic career, but man, it could have been worse!
Even more amazing: how Nicola and I have fought this natural caregiving instinct over the past couple of weeks as we helped Lindsay figure out her sleep schedule. I guess a few days of quiet around the house made me miss even the wailing.
10 days away from the family -- not something I'd like to repeat again soon.
I went and worked on my golf swing last night in preparation for my trip to Houston. I play less than five times a year, which is probably one-tenth of the amount I should play to get any good. I am resolved to being less than mediocre...but "Golf for Dummies" beckoned at the library, so away I went. My grip was wrong, my alignment sucks, etc. and so forth. It's a long list of flaws, believe me. I tried to keep the mindset that I was experimenting: "Gee, what happens when I slow my swing down and accentuate the turn in my hips?" But that gets old when you are actually missing the ball during this experiment.
My game has been crappy but predictable: a god-awful slice, profound lapses in concentration during the short game, so-so putting and the occasional purely struck shot that brings me back for more. This is the golf game that produced both of these in the same round (at Myrtle Beach during a bachelor party): 1) a glancing blow off a course ranger's golf cart, as he was driving between fairways to investigate our group's slow play and hijinks; and 2) a gently slicing driver off the 18th tee that bounced into the clubhouse parking lot and landed in the backseat of a car (the door was fortunately open, the car surrounded by golfers packing up their gear).
Now -- my quest for improvement may lead me to be even worse than I was. Oh boy. Nothing like facing with dread a 5-hour round of golf in the July Houston heat.
-----------------------------
Rescue Me last night: another fine show, highlighting the characters' shortcomings and failings. There are no heroes or completely likable people in the show, which makes it more interesting to me...and at times painful to watch. I do find some of the foibles to be cliche...but I suppose that doesn't make them untrue. And I thought the "firebug" storyline was a bit predictable. Heck, there was a lot that was predictable about the episode, but I still enjoyed it. Beats just about anything else on TV...besides the train wreck that is "Sports Kids Moms & Dads." I've mildly kvetched before about my parents' lack of interest in my athletic career, but man, it could have been worse!
// posted by Bill @ 8:08 AM 
