This was going to be a comment…

for the C-girl but it kind of got away from me.
I don’t know if Brian ever checks these things once he’s posted a reply. You may want to invade his blog and throw that at him. And yes Brian, I walk when they let me. I did play a couple courses when on vacation which make riding in a cart mandatory. There were some holes spaced apart by 1 or 2 city blocks and they feel it speeds up play. I didn’t actually play every day of vacation. There were several days where I played twice a day and walked both times.
For the C-girl: I don’t know how to compare this to anything else, though I’ll take my best shot. If you have a backpack laying around the house, put three 10lb. bags of potatoes in it and head out the door. Walk a mile and a half every hour with the backpack strapped on. The rest of the time you’re allowed to take the backpack off but you must remain standing for the entire hour. Do this 9 hours in a row and it wil approximate walking 36 holes less the aggaravation of playing the game. If at the end of the 9 hours you feel like you’ve had some exercise, you probably have. I’ve never read a chart about what kind of calories it burns, but something tells me it’s of some value. Plus like Brian says, I do play better when walking. There’s something about it that keeps my head more in the game. It may be because when riding in a cart, you’re usually riding with somebody else. That’s not bad but it is kind of distracting sometimes and can kind of throw off your rhythm.
OK, comments out of the way and nothing else to say, I’ll just go ahead and talk anyway because, well, that’s what I do.
I’m gradually running slightly more again. That covers that!
The weather has gone from almost spring to the dog days of summer in 1 week. The daily high temps on vacation were in the upeer 50s to 60s. Now the nightly lows are in the 70s. What the F????
The heat is finally making my tomato plants grow. I put them in along with some pepper plants 3 weeks ago and they mostly just sat there not growing. This week they grew 6 inches.
We’ve had enough rain that the local home improvement stores have run out of blueprints for do-it-yourself arks. I guess I’ll have to hitch a ride with somebody else once the water gets up to my rooftop.
The local farmers are fretting because many of the crops they’ve got planted are under water and many haven’t been able to plant at all. The later you get the crop in the ground the more risk of a killing frost in the fall. I took this pic last weekend alongside a golf course not too far from here.

This field just went for miles and there’s nothing in it but weeds. It should make for interesting commodity prices in the fall if this remains the case. One good thing about all this rain is that MY weeds have made an even more impressive showing than my tulips. OK, maybe that’s not so good. But there’s mosquitoes hatching at record levels too, so at least when I’m out pulling the weeds I have plenty of company buzzing around my, well, everything. Well, that’s the buzz from here. Stay cool!

2 Comments

  1. Hey Joe, thanks for the detailed comment-that-became-a-post. Regarding the 30 lbs. o’ potatoes in a backpack for nine hours, standing all the time, I’d have to agree — that sounds like *some* kind of significant exercise.

    It appears that Brian does, indeed, come back to read your comments, because he so graciously answered my question back at my pad. I do need to go to his place and talk to him directly, but I find it fun to hijack other’s comments. Thanks for allowing me to do that 🙂

    And lastly, the same thing happened here. First it was spring with some cold days warming to 60 degrees if we were lucky and now we are firmly stuck in the 90s. Crazy.

    And let me take this opportunity to get on my knees and thank sweet baby Jesus for central air conditioning. Amen.

  2. Okay, it’s time for some new Joe. It’s been over two weeks and nuthin. You need to slap some new thoughts down. Surely someone at work has pissed you off and that’s something to write about. You must be gardening up a storm, or running and golfing. Come on, throw us a bone.


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