Old And New Tricks...

...for an eager broad

A few weeks ago, I popped into a used sporting goods store and bought a really cheap set of old golf clubs. Back in the day, especially when I lived on the edge of a golf course in Wisconsin, I loved to golf. This fact might be as shocking to some of you as my recently recovered addiction to needlepoint.

There were so many reasons to love golf, the number one reason being that it's a game played outside. I was a bit of a golfing rebel and sometimes golfed without shoes and in my jogging bra more than a few times. I also loved that you could fit an entire six-pack of beer in those little side pouches in the golf bag. One Christmas, my friend Loi and I took colored golf balls and played nine holes as we waved to people opening presents in their pajamas.

Life changed. Golfing had become expensive and crowded; I was working about 14 hours a day, and before I knew it, my daughter had taken over my golf clubs. Lately, I've kinda missed it, so that's why the cheap clubs and me up there, hoping I don't maim anyone at the only driving range in the country where I live.

It was like getting on a bike after years of walking, and I did pretty damn good. I haven't been back to play again, but I know I will need a lesson; golf is back on the list. If all else fails, golf clubs also make fantastic weapons.

The problem I have is that there are about 100 things in my life that I like trying and doing. It could be five years before I actually get to play a round of golf, but as I keep mentioning, it's never ever too late to try new things, fall in or out of love again, dance or swim naked, or smoke a cigar and have a glass of whiskey.

I am on my birthday camping trip, and because we sold the kayaks, the bikes are coming along. This trip will also include two new challenges. We are going to try to whittle something like a spoon or whatever in the hell comes out of it, and start a fire using a bow drill. The knives were sharpened professionally, so I am going to take an extra first aid kit.

I also plan to jump in the lake, and I have a speech prepared for the Eastern Screech Owl that sometimes visits and likes to talk to me around 3 a.m.. This dark-skies lake is also home to a pack of coyotes who have formed a band that sings just before the Owl goes on stage. The night I get back home is always one of the best nights of sleep I get all year.

You don't have to whittle, golf, or jump into a deep lake, but do something. Keep your limbs and brain sparked for more. I am one of those Broads who doesn't want her brain or body to die young. I may be swimming naked in a cold lake and bleeding from a whittling cut, but think of the fun I am having!

Join me and we will howl all night and scare the hell out of the fishermen who will be floating home under the brilliant stars.

And now, as we did in the old days of journalism…###…this one is over.