1. I'm sure of it. Golf is my favorite game to watch on television, especially when a major tournament is being contested. I think the last time I watched golf on tv was in July of 2014 when Rory McIlroy won the Open championship at Royal Liverpool. We had just moved to Virginia. It was Olivia's birthday weekend. Adrienne and Jack buzzed down from Nyack. Hiram and Molly's townhouse was full. I spent two nights in a Best Western in Ft. Belvoir/Mt. Vernon. Before going to Olivia's party, I watched golf. I loved it.
Today, I discovered that CBS coverage of the Masters was available at masters.com. So, I tuned in and thoroughly enjoyed Patrick Reed's thrilling performance, scoring mind boggling eagles at both the 13th and 15th holes and the way Rory McIlroy battled to stay close enough to possibly catch up to Reed tomorrow. I came out of my seat and bellowed, "OH MY GOD!" when McIlroy chipped in for an eagle on the 8th hole. It was fun to swap text messages with Byrdman as the third round developed and drew to a close. We both agreed: this tournament hardly needed Tiger and Phil in order to be dramatic and entertaining. What it needed was fearless young players emboldened by the slightly damp and forgiving conditions at Augusta National, making it a day when players up and down the leaderboard shot rarely seen low scores, heightening the drama. I can hardly wait to watch Sunday's final round.
2. I am the host for Sunday family dinner this weekend and I took occasional breaks from the golf action to look up recipes that are congruent with the plans Christy and Carol are following to lose weight. I decided what I'll make and have a trip to the store planned for the morning to pick up some food to make it happen. I'll reveal the plan and the menu when I post tomorrow's 3BTs. Suffice it to say I was happy to find recipes that give me the chance to do some of my favorite kind of cooking and that will produce meals within Christy and Carol's eating discipline.
3. Not long after dark and after fixing myself a green salad with tuna fish and cottage cheese, I realized I was out of coffee, so I went to Yoke's and ground myself over a pound of SilverCup Midnight. I returned to the car and saw the neon straw flashing back and forth in the neon martini glass resting above the entry into the Inland Lounge and decided to stop in. I enjoyed two VO ditches, shot the breeze with Cas, listened to the drunken and dulled wit of a guy who boasted, "I cracked open my first beer at 2 o'clock this afternoon at Dirty Ernie's" (expletives deleted). That was about six hours ago and nothing in his six hours of drinking Miller Lites had done anything to make him enjoyable. After a while, the woman he was with seized upon an opportunity. When her pal lurched to the restroom, she drank the rest of his, as it turned out, last beer and cashed them out. He staggered toward the door, giving an old guy near him a bent elbow, sustained heart level and heart felt peace and love drug brotherhood handshake -- he might have told the old guy he loved him -- just before he left. Once he was out the door, a welcome duvet of quiet and relief blanketed the Inland Lounge.
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