My Player is Moira Dunn
Good thing we played ten and eleven yesterday. That gave us the luxury of bypassing the horde waiting too tee up on the back this morning. Joined a twosome on twelve and coasted the rest of the way.
Real men don’t eat quiche…except in the caddie shack this week. A hot breakfast and lunch everyday and a pastry tray second to none. It’s s a five star setup as usual up here. TV and internet is also provided. The hostess in charge is very easy on the eyes also, so we got that goin’ for us.
Moira played this track about a month agro and the fairways were in pristine condition. Not so this week. They are pot marked with worm casts leaving nickel-sized bare spots everywhere. Plenty of bad lies await us.
Oh-oh, boomers expected tomorrow.
Stranger than fiction: One looper’s luggage did not make connection through Detroit (I guess two hours wasn’t enough time) but was promised delivery the next day to the Holiday Inn where he was staying. When morning came, there still was no sign of it so he walked across the street to the Sheraton for a ride to the course. Upon stating his name, he was surprised to find out that a lady standing next to the person assisting him knew where his errant bag was. For some reason it was delivered to her room at the Sheraton! They did not have similar last names either. You just can’t make this stuff up. Timing is everything.
Then there was this: