1. Nine holes. One good shot: a nine iron that rocketed over a pond fronting the green to about six feet behind the pin, tucked in the back of the green. Then I three-putted. Shit.
2. The Subaru was broken into overnight. The Deke forgot to lock it. The good news: her black wallet was in the car, tucked in a dark slot beneath the radio, and the perps missed it. Why did they steal the Deke's St. Vinnie's mugs? The math games Deke bought for her students? Don't know. But they missed the wallet.
3. These older men were playing behind us at SuttonRidge today. On about the fifth or sixth hole we were walking to our tee shots and a ball flew over us, struck by one of the guys behind us. HE HIT INTO US! They had a cart and sped down to us to apologize. The guy who hit the offending tee shot said that he hadn't been hitting the ball well all day. He was shocked he hit one that far. I smiled broadly, and yelled across the fairway, "I said to Nathan that I'll bet the old bastard hadn't poked a good one all day!" The older guys loved that I said "old bastard" and laughed their way back down the fairway and the rest of our round continued without incident.