Travels with The Rayman

Yesterday was a day of old people antics.  Really, I can’t figure out how we got this old.  How did it happen?  When?  Seems like just yesterday that I was early in a career, commuting, dealing with office politics etc.  And now…here I am, turkey neck and all.  And there is also another aspect to this situation.  My mind.  It seems to hold less and less if you get my drift…unless it happened 45 years ago or unless it’s lyrics to a Ricky Nelson song.  Go figure.

But I digress.

Yesterday went something like this.  Ruthie didn’t feel good (she caught my cold) so she opted out of golf.  That left me in the back seat with two men up front in the car trying to navigate us to the golf course.  That did not go well.  We turned here.  Turned there.  Backtracked here.  Backtracked there.  Asked a man mowing the lawn.  Then asked a man out on his morning walk.  Finally, we arrived at the golf course.  Because Ruthie wasn’t there, I had a cart by myself.  When it was time to proceed, I left for the first tee.  And I ended up on the tee by myself.  The starter called the other course (there were three) and asked if they were any confused people around.  They (count them, 6 other people) were lost in space.  They went to the wrong place.  They finally arrived.  Then we were off and playing.

On the 3rd hole Michel discovered a 5 wood in her golf bag.  It wasn’t hers.  She swore it just appeared.  We figured that it belonged to one of the guys.  So, she drove back to them and asked who’s club it was.  Bryan, her significant other, said it wasn’t his.  He had a Cobra 5 wood and it had a head cover just like this, but it wasn’t his.  No one claimed it.  So she brought it back.  And then on the 7th hole, she inspected the wayward club and voila.  It had a name tag on it and it was Bryan’s.  Howls ensued.

I almost made a hole in one.  See picture.

 

On the 11th hole, I remembered that I had a sandwich in the cooler on the other cart.  So, I asked whose sandwich was who’s.  Pat said that hers were wrapped separately.  And I thought I had two halves since Ruth didn’t show.  And that’s how I ate the wrong sandwich.

 

The day culminated in the other condo.  Salmon was on the menu.  It was fabulous.  Barbecued salmon, roasted squash with bacon, asparagus, salad, and killer garlic bread.  But the question of the evening was, “Okay, what is the revenge for the fudgesicle conspiracy blog?”  The time had arrived.  Dessert was at hand.  What could it be?  Out came a bowl with one bite of fudgesicle.  Really?  really.  Hooting was heard.

 

Then, Pat showed a stroke of genius.  She served dump cake.  Have you ever had dump cake before?  You throw a can of pineapple, cherries for pie, a yellow cake mix and some butter together and bake it.  Simple.  Easy.  Delicious.  Great idea.  And we were all winners.  So in one dessert they served the ying and then the yang of desserts.