By now, I've figured out which friends and family members read this thing, and among them are several people I play golf with.

This past weekend, I played with 2 different groups, both near and dear, but every time something funny or unusual happened, I heard, "Put that in your blog."

Well, OK.

Saturday was the usual bunch at Tallwood CC in Hebron. There's something comforting about playing in the same foursome every weekend. But this year, we're a threesome. Our "A" player is Paul, who just retired from The Hartford. I mean JUST retired. Bought himself a convertible, and is having far too good a time for himself.
Our "B" player was Don, who retired from The Hartford late last summer, and up and moved to California. We miss Don, who is having far too good a time for himself. Jim and I bring up the rear.
Jim has been retired from...you guessed it...The Hartford, for a few years, and we believe he's having a good time for himself. But since he hasn't logged on to a computer for some time, and doesn't read this thing, I can say whatever I want about him.
Anyway, the big laughs came at Jim's expense this weekend, because he's got rabbit ears. Hears a pin drop 2 fairways away. 8th hole...bad shot...and he asks, "Did anyone hear that frog?" Yes, he blamed the shot on a frog croaking during his swing. You don't do that at Tallwood. You'll be mocked mercilessly, maybe for years. Later, he was distracted by some flying insect. Our conclusion: Jim should play golf indoors, where nature won't get in the way.

Tallwood, by the way, is a family-owned course open to the public. If you've never played there, by all means go to Hebron and tee it up. John Nowobilski is the pro, and an outstanding teacher, if you're in need of a lesson. And no, I don't even get a free bucket of range balls for saying this.

Sunday, it was off to Wintonbury Hills in Bloomfield for a spirited match. Joe D. and me against the previously mentioned "friend named Joanne" and Dave Jones (not to be confused with Davy Jones of the Monkees.)
In this foursome, 3 out of 4 of us actually work for a living, though in the case of Joe D. and me, some might question the use of the word "work", and in the case of Mr. Jones, I don't really know what the hell he does except arrange golf matches. As for the "friend named Joanne," she's retired from...well, not The Hartford...and is having WAY too good a time for herself. Damn her.
Joe D. and I won the front; they crushed us on the back. Still, a lovely Sunday.

Wintonbury, by the way, is owned by the town of Bloomfield, but hardly resembles a "muni." It's reasonably priced, and if you live in Bloomfield, it's a steal. It's always in great condition, and the greens are fast (in my case, mind-bendingly so).

The only thing I don't care for is the carts. They're new and nice, but they know where you are at all times. They tell you where to go and where not to go...when you're going too fast...and how far behind you are in your round. I'm surprised they don't mock you when you hit a bad shot. So...tell your damn cart to shut up!

Put THAT in your blog.