A Golf Tale

I'm a little idea-deprived in the blog post department.

Sometimes we just need to default to low-hanging fruit. So in the spirit of Pepper's finally convincing me to watch golf on tv, willingly, I forthwith offer this memorialization of the "Day That Phil Mickelson (probably) Lost It."

This is US Open week -- a big tournament, one of "The Majors," one of the four tournaments in Golf's Grand Slam.  A title coveted by anyone who has ever swung a club.  The only one of the four that Ol' Lefty is missing.

He's not likely to win this year's US Open Trophy after today.

It seems that Phil was feeling a little frustrated during today's round (and some commentators speculate that he committed his violation of the rules to protest the placement of the cups on the greens), so when his bogey putt ran past the cup on the 13th, he chased down the ball and putted it back toward the cup while it was still rolling. 

That is apparently a near-hanging-offense in the PGA.

He was assessed an automatic 2-stroke penalty and wound up with a crushing 10 on the par 4 hole.

He explained that he didn't mean any disrespect by committing the offense; that he simply didn't want the ball to roll off the green leaving him with Lord knows how many extra shots to hole it. Of course he also said, “I’ve had multiple times where I’ve wanted to do that, I just finally did.”

I'm afraid the Rules Committee may have gone in search of a rope.

Oh well, the College World Series kicks off tomorrow and my Omahawgs will be there!  Wooo Pig! Tuck Fexas (as we used to cheer back in the day)!!

Happy Fathers Day Eve!

Attention, Tiger, Moogie Has a Plan to Save Your Lunch

I know he's probably very busy with rehab after his surgery, but I believe Tiger Woods is missing a golden opportunity this spring.

He has, over the years, avoided a number of the smaller tournaments on the PGA schedule, for whatever reason. I recall an open letter to Tiger on the editorial page of the Times-Picayune a number of years ago. It was from a self-identified little old lady. In it, she implored Tiger to come to New Orleans and play in the Zurich Classic, (or maybe it was the HP Classic, before Zurich became the named sponsor, but I digress) telling him that seeing him play in person was one of the few things she really wanted to do before she strolled through the Pearly Gates. He hasn't played there yet.

Phil Mickelson hasn't played there often, but in 2006, the year after Katrina, he went to New Orleans with his whole family, did some work on a playground, and made a substantial cash donation to relief efforts. It bought him immeasurable good will in the Crescent City.

Tiger hasn't played the FedEx St. Jude tournament in Memphis either. As a matter of fact, there are a quite a few of them out there where Tiger has never teed off, and that has ticked off quite a number of his fans. Hence and therefor, I offer Moogie's suggestion for the Tiger Woods Tour of 2014:

Yo, Tiger! Take a little trip to all the tournaments scheduled this season while you can't play, and make personal appearances. Sign a few autographs, kiss a few babies. It would do wonders for your reputation, and give a huge boost to the tournaments' coffers and attendance. You could let your girlfriend, Lindsey, tag along; she could sign a few autographs, too.  Let people take pictures with your cute kids. You'd be a huge hit! And, you could keep your name out there in front of the public -- you don't want to fade from memory now after working so hard to get back in golf fans' good graces following your, er, misadventures that landed you in the sex addiction clinic and divorce court.

It's a capital idea! I'd settle for a small percentage of your next purse as compensation. C'mon, Tiger. Wise up!

The Imperial President

Stolen from Facebook --

I loved seeing Jack Nicklaus introducing Mitt yesterday in Ohio!  Jack knows how to putt -- unlike a certain President who shall remain unnamed.  And waaaaaay over par.

Cancel That Request

Remember when I mentioned in yesterday's post that it wouldn't be so awful if some terrorist blew up the Golf Channel's transmitter?

Never mind.

It seems that there are several hours of the ladies playing in Colorado Springs recorded on the DVR, so real-time broadcasting isn't necessary to watch a little more golf.

*sigh*. At least the scenery is pretty. We had brunch at the Broadmoor a number of years ago while staying at Ft. Carson. I could do that again, even if there were a bunch of LPGAers out there.

Another of Those Posts that My Mother Would Disapprove

Wouldn't you just love to be a fly on the wall of the hospital room where this picture was taken!  Hugo and those Krazy Kastro Boyz!  Ol' Hugo was even sporting his favorite track suit!

Being southern, my Mama always admonished me to hold my tongue if I couldn't say something nice about someone. Ordinarily, being southern myself, I heed that admonition.  But, there are just some folks that set my tongue to wagging, and Hugo Chavez is one of them.

Pepper forwarded me this link in an email this afternoon:

"From all available reports, Hugo Chavez is in critical condition in a hospital in Cuba. The Venezuelan communist dictator was taken to Cuba several weeks ago for an emergency surgery regarding pelvic swelling, which has led many to speculate that he is dealing with prostate cancer.

In the irony of ironies, Hugo Chavez was faced with the decision to have to leave his own nation, and the health care system that was supposed to be an example for other nations, to receive care from another questionable health care system in Cuba."

In the "Subject" line, he titled the email, "Apparently God Has a Sense of Humor."

It would appear so, indeed.

In my reply I suggested that he get together a group of retired Blackwater guys, invade Venezuela, and storm the golf courses to take them back from "the people" before Chavez comes home.  I haven't heard from him in awhile.  Hmmm, I wonder.  I'd better go check whether any of the jungle camo uniforms are missing . . . .

Daddies' Day 2011

I haven't yet downloaded the pictures from the most recent wedding, but I'll do so shortly.  In the meantime, Happy Fathers' Day to all the fathers out there and you guys who have -- or had -- fathers.  Love you all!

Pepper has already enjoyed a round of golf this morning (who can really enjoy physical, outdoor activity when it's 95 degrees and 463% humidity?!?!  I think he deceives himself sometimes, but it's Fathers' Day, so let the deception proceed.)  We're getting ready to join some friends at their home for a family-style barbecue (and more golf on tv, I would venture).

Sometimes I miss the good old days when the girls always had their dance recital on Fathers' Day.  That was a way their teacher encouraged families to spend time together.  No stress involved there at all.  No sir. One year, Younger Daughter's number was a Daddy/Daughter Dance.  Pepper had been working in D.C. the week before, but he made special arrangements to fly home for one day so he could dance in that number with her.  That was a pretty neat Daddy-thing to do.  That was also the weekend that OJ Simpson did his special slow-motion cop chase through LA.  I wonder if there's a connection?  Nah.  Pepper would never drive that slowly.

Anyway, here's last year's post (that incorporates the previous year's post.)  You can see Pepper dancing with his baby daughter at her wedding reception shortly.  Cheers to the Dads!  Especially mine -- Happy Boompie Day, Boomps!

In the Navy!

Been out of town again.  More wedding stuff.  Food porn post still in the works.  Saw this today on Facebook and had to share.

Obama's contribution to the death of UBL:

Now, that is one wicked water hazard!

Cranky, Thy Name is Moogie

Listen up, world!  Moogie is not a happy camper.

I am operating on very little sleep, mosquito-gnawed ankles, and premature adrenaline rush.

Pepper has gone to Alabama with a friend to chase little white balls with sticks, competitively, for the weekend.  Having had a rather unpleasant week coping with a flare-up of a chronic gut disease, I had planned to spend Friday night eating solid food, watching chick flicks, and sleeping long and late.

The Fates had other ideas.

Rosie, the 15 1/2 year old, mostly blind and usually deaf shih tzu, woke me at 0200, 0500, and 0740 wandering in circles on the bed, wanting to go out.  There are skads of skeeters out there at those hours, too.  Trust me on this one.  Plus, Pepper's alarm clock went off at 0600.  And 0700.  I hate that clock.

In sum, Moogie needs a nap.  And lunch.

I think that tonight, after the Saints - Texans game, I'll give Rosie a doggie Benadryl and unplug the alarm clock.  Or smash it.

He Really Should Take Up Yachting . . . .

And I thought he threw like a girl.

Make him stop!!!!!



Can't you just hear the other leaders of the free world giggling behind his back at various summits like those guys who are filming him on the practice range?

Egad.

Daddies' Day 2010

UPDATE: I just found this picture of my Daddy in uniform! So, here's Mama and Daddy on their wedding day, December 28, 1952. He does the uniform justice, if I do say so myself!

I wasn't going to do a Fathers Day post today, but after reading last year's entry, I deemed it worthy of a repeat, with a little update.

My Daddy ("Boompie") turned 81 in April and is still rockin' and rollin'! Doesn't he look handsome and happy at Shay's wedding?

And, of course, Pepper is still father to 3 and grandfather to 3, but he is now also father-in-law to one and father-in-law-2B to another! Ain't it grand how families continue to grow!

So, Happy Dad's Day to one and all out there who are fathers, had fathers, or will someday be fathers! Hope you don't get a tacky tie, and hope you get to watch all the golf your little hearts desire! (I even sucked it up and recorded the entire broadcast of the U.S. Open for my Pepper-in-transport. Happy Day, Baby!)

And a special Happy Day to The Son (pictured above with 2/3 of his offspring) who is spending his Father's Day at annual training far, far away from his kiddos. Stay hydrated, kid!

Sunday, June 21, 2009
Happy Father's Day!

Today I'd like to honor the fatherly progenitors of our particular clan: Boompie and Grandpa.

Boompie would be Moogie's father, still kickin' and driving at 80. That's him holding Maxie, the dachschund, circa 1959. Boompie served 20 years in the Navy Reserve, but I couldn't get to the box where older family photos are stashed in what we lovingly refer to as "the attic room" to find a pic of him in uniform. Mama was beautiful -- she's lived in heaven since 1977 and she moved there entirely too early. Am I cute in that picture, or what!

The dashing young Corporal is Grandpa, my father-in-law. This is probably my favorite picture of him. He lied about his age and joined the Army Air Corps at the ripe old age of 16 (which caused all sorts of problems down the road when age needed to be verified for VA stuff!) and headed for Burma during WWII. He left us way too early, too, in 1990. I still miss him.

Boompie and Grandpa taught me lots of things.

Boompie taught me how to distinguish between a Cessna and a Bonanza, and how to shoot a pellet gun out of his bathroom window to chase squirrels away from the birdfeeder. Grandpa taught me how Solitaire can be a sport and where to find beer on Sunday in Hot Springs. They both are among the most intelligent men it's been my pleasure to know.

So, here's a happy day to all the fathers out there. And as a blog-buddy says: Call yer ol' man!

(On a Musing note: that pic of the pre-school Moogie has a caption on the back, in Mama's elegant handwriting, that identifies all of us, and notes that it was taken in our house on "LeFever Lane." That just makes me think of the old test of how you find out what your stage "stripper name" is. You know -- take the name of your first pet and combine it with the name of the first street where you lived that you remember. That would make me "Maxie LeFever." It could work! Well, it could have worked a few years and pounds ago. I guess Maxie LeFever will not be working Bourbon Street this Father's Day!)

Saturday Thoughts about Tiger

Sorry -- just couldn't resist. I have been one of Tiger's biggest fans, but now I'm really ticked off at him. Who cares if he's a huge celebrity!? He took a wedding vow just like the gazillion commoners in this world who manage to keep their extra-marital lust in their hearts and their stroke-shaving equipment in their pants.

I'll miss watching him drive, though -- and I'll certainly miss watching him walk away from me. Just like Greg Norman.

Hmmm -- is it getting warm in here?

The Health Care Reform Vote and the Slow-Learners in Congress

I obviously have not forgiven him for uttering it, because I certainly haven't forgotten it, but my husband made an observation a number of years ago that I think has particular applicability to Congress's vote last night on the House health care reform bill.

When I was first learning to play at golf (I still haven't learned to "play" it, just "play at" it), Pepper and I started playing "Twilight Couples" rounds in which we were paired with another couple and assigned some bizarre format designed to produce a divorce or two per round. On one of those blissful Friday evenings, I blew a putt. Actually, I had blown several putts on several different holes in one of those formats that, in addition to boosting the bottom line at the divorce lawyer's firm, had the added benefit of torturing the weaker player in a twosome.

The "weaker player" -- that would be me.

Anyway, after I blew the third or fourth putt, my precious soulmate turned red in the face as that vein in his forehead popped out, stared me down, and in a measured tone a few octaves higher than his normal speaking voice that turned the surrounding air a little blue, spat out the words: "G.D., Moogie! Even a monkey learns after watching other monkeys for a little while!!!"

For some reason that I still fail to understand to this day, I chose to finish the round and not leave him. And a few days later, I got a really nice gift -- it may even have been sparkly. That's kinda how my precious soulmate apologizes when he knows he's really screwed up.

So, when that memory floated to the top of my consciousness this morning as I dissected yesterday's House vote in my cozy bed, a whole bunch of monkeys and apes sprang to life right before my eyes. Monkeys named Canada, Sweden, England, Massachusetts, Tennessee. Apes that had played with socialized healthcare and figured out that it doesn't work; monkeys that watched its citizens losing way too many balls in a bottomless rough without boundaries; apes that were living the old joke about how to play a really long round with the partner who had a heart attack on the course: hit the ball, drag Fred; hit the ball, drag Fred.

Next, I realized that I'm Fred. You'll be Fred. Our grandkids will have to pay Fred's greens fees and drag us around without so much as being able to tee one up. And then I realized that those monkeys we've been watching have given up on this game because the rules aren't fair, the game is way too confusing and expensive, and there aren't enough tee times to go around.

Damn, Congress! Even monkeys can learn after watching other monkeys for awhile!

Those apes on Capitol Hill must be a little slow. We'll have to use very small words while explaining the error of their way. And take away their bananas.

Somehow I don't think we'll be getting a nice gift, though -- sparkly or otherwise. Maybe just a little more monkey poo flung in our direction.

Venezuela in Jeopardy

I've tried to keep it from him for as long as I can, but my husband may now be painting camo on his face and dusting off his jungle BDUs for a covert invasion of Venezuela.

He can sort of tolerate the state taking over television and radio stations. He can barely tolerate Chavez sucking up to the Castro brothers and demonizing Honduras. He can even kind of tolerate the newest cozy relationship among Venezuela and other OPEC nations.

But this he cannot tolerate: Hugo Chavez has declared golf to be a bourgeois non-sport played by lazy elitists, and anything but a "peoples' sport." Nine courses have been nationalized and closed so far.

I've done all that I can, people of Venezuela; I can't restrain him any longer. You'd better follow Cuba's lead of wooing golf tourists, get rid of Chavez, or prepare to face the consequences wrought by the Golf Avenger. You're on your own.