1. This morning I made the 35 minute drive into Rockland to play golf for the first time in nearly a year. Now that I am staring directly down the gun barrel of retirement I have been thinking that I should probably rekindle my interest in golf since soon I will have plenty of time to devote to it. So, on a perfectly dreary morning filled with drizzle and fog, I played nine holes at Rockland Golf Club. I shot a 45 which came as no surprise, after all it had been a year, the conditions were poor, I was using rental clubs and could hardly see further than 100 yards because of the fog. What was surprising was the number of really nice shots I hit, none better than this one. The ninth hole is a 220 yard par 3. I hit a 3-wood that felt great but I immediately lost it in the thick fog. When I reached the green, there it was 12 feet beyond the flag stick. The ball mark was six feet from the hole. Of course I missed the putt, but it was a great way to finish the outing.
You might be wondering why on earth I chose such a rotten, miserable weather day to play golf. It’s quite simple. If I had woken up to clear, sunny skies, there’s no way I would have left the lake. When the weather turns nasty, thats the time to plan outings. I am aware that this makes us sound pathetic, being so attached to the lake that we won’t leave it until bad weather comes, but it’s just the way it is. We can’t help ourselves.
2. Pam was having lunch a couple days ago on our beautiful screened in porch. It should be pointed out that every single meal we have had in our two and half weeks here has been eaten on this porch, even…especially…when it’s raining. Anyhow, she noticed one of the seven or eight birdhouses had a small red squirrel crawling around it. By the time she reached for her phone to take a picture, the tree rat had slipped inside, turned around and was staring back at her. Look carefully and you will see him in the door. My first reaction to this was…is there anything worse than a religious squirrel? Since we do not know what denomination this particular church belongs to, I’m guessing it’s Presbyterian. If anyone or anything has a firm grasp on the notion of total depravity, its got to be squirrels.
3. Lest any of my Virginia peeps think that Maine is some backwoods wilderness without access to modern services, this photograph should disabuse you of such ideas. Yes, we have full access to the United States Postal Service here in Maine, and I might add that the post offices up here put ours to shame. Think about that ugly monstrosity at the corner of Pump and Patterson Avenue, for example. Now, feast your eyes on the post office for West Rockport, Maine. I’m thinking that all post offices should be log cabins
4. Finally, today is July 24th, and my wife is multi tasking like a boss out on the screen porch. One lap top is playing last night’s episode of the Bachelorette, the other displays the pattern of the cross-stitching project that she has been tirelessly working on since the day we arrived. Most astonishing is the fact that she is wearing a long sleeved jacket and her legs are wrapped in a blanket. Outside the rain is softly falling on the leaves of the trees around the porch, making the kind of sounds that people pay money to play through their cellphones at night so they can fall asleep.
Last night we came across a camp for sale on a nearby lake. It has potential. We might run by and take a tour of the place later on. Its a good day for such things.
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