Today is travel day for the kids. Jon and Kaitlin will drive to Charlotte and catch a flight to Portland. Knowing my daughters luck with flights, their luggage will probably land in Portland, Oregon. Patrick and Sarah will fly from Nashville to Portland. I will pick them up, God willing, around 8 o'clock this evening. Pam and Lucy will be here at the house making preparations for the big reunion, which...because Pam is Pam...will include a welcome bag of Maine treats on their pillows and some sort of yet to be determined Maine snack upon their arrival. Good Lord, how I do love that woman!
The weather for the first four days of this week looks like something ordered up by the Camden Chamber of Commerce...upper 70's over middle 50's. Of course, it should be pointed out that weather forecasts around here are about as dependable as Bill Clinton's marriage vows. In one single day it isn't unusual for the weather forecast here to change three times. Seriously! The other day the forecast at 6 am called for cloudy skies with a chance of rain. By noon it declared the rest of the day sunny and clear. By evening, it warned of heavy fog. Which brings me to my golf experience yesterday...
I showed up at Rockland Golf Club for my 7:00 am tee time with grave doubts that I would be able to get even nine holes in. The clouds were low, thick and heavy and a light rain had already started to fall. But then, I got paired with three local Mainers, Sean, Greg and Essie. They were all in their thirties, all lifelong residents of Rockland, with the thickest, most hilarious Maine accents you've ever heard. They all assured me that it was only a "passing showah!!" So, off we charged, into the breach.
After six holes, I was wetter than Bill Clinton's hot-tub, soaked to the bone. Meanwhile, my local weather experts seemed unfazed by the deluge, constantly finding evidence in the clouds of pending sunshine. By the turn at 9, it looked more ominous than when we started, but my new buddies remained committed. "They're playing the British Open right now, right? It's the least we can do!"
These three guys were about as good a bunch of dudes as you could imagine being paired up with on a golf course. Sean was an excellent golfer, Greg and Essie, not so much. However, all of them played very quickly...always a bonus. Essie had the added benefit of being a stone cold, lead pipe ringer for a young Tom Cruise. It was uncanny! By the end of the round, all three of them had given me their cell phone numbers and told me to not even think about renting clubs when I play again..."just call one of us and you can borrow ours!"
So now, I can cross- play an entire round of golf in pouring rain - off of my bucket list. As crazy as it seems, I had a blast! Didn't even keep a scorecard, just kept a running total of how many pars I had...six. My boys want to do it again next Sunday morning.