Puzzled

For years balancing my incoming to outgoing funds was a constant challenge. Ol’ Abner watched my spending by snooping through my checkbook in early years, then on line once the bank account was available for digital interaction. It was a “back of my mind” concern that I might overspend. He kept that concern front and center, exaggerating the size and frequency of my purchases.  When he was no longer able to be the watchman, I embraced the fitting of the finances into a monthly puzzle usually finding a few excess spaces available for the next months. He left me sufficiently funded to live worry free well into my old age. 

That was before this pandemic threw a wrench into every process. Now I find myself with no extra pieces, but many gaps in the puzzle to be completed. This is a terrifying circumstance for me, though I know we were often here in younger years. Today I am on my own as I search for those missing pieces and pray that they will come in time. As I look to the future, the word “normal” has no meaning. I must view this as a “new adventure” at a time in my life when I had least expected. Boring was never my pleasure, but I must pray that I am up for this level of excitement. Now, let me search for even a tiny piece of this puzzle of $$$.

Mobility...NOT!

I've suffered my way through crippling injuries before.  In fact I considered myself quite adept at maneuvering around on crutches.  That was probably thirty years in the past sans fifty pounds or so.  As I made my way around the house on crutches whining, a friend arrived with an amazing little scooter.  It rolls nicely and has a gentle hand brake.  

I named her Zelda Green

A handy little basket adorns the handle-bar that can be adjusted to accommodate my overly generous height. I made a trail around the living room when she first arrived only to feel the pressure in my fractured fibula.  I seemed wise to ask for my physician's advice.  He recommended that I give it a couple of weeks or until the pressure through my cast wasn't painful. It's three days shy of three weeks and it still hurts to rest my leg on Zelda Green's little seat.  I still find crutches awkward, and the dog avoids my path.  I am counting the days until my bulky green fiber glass cast can be split and removed. Meanwhile I have lost my entire month of 
June.  Maybe I won't sleep much in July! 

Don't Make Plans You Can't Change!

We enjoyed a glorious trip to the Bay City area and Grand Canyon on the way back home.  I kinked up the fun on the last day of our trip with a fall that wasn't in the plan.  It made for a painful exit from the Grand Canyon. That night I removed my shoe to find a weak painful appendage, pretty much useless for traversing the hotel room. let alone beginning the trip home.  The following morning Ol' Abner managed to get me off the third floor via wheelchair provided by the front desk.  They had given us instructions for finding the clinic in the park and off we went.  I suspected I had a nasty sprain and felt like a strong ace wrap and a pair of crutches would fix me right up. Exam, xrays. more than just an ace wrap, and we were sent on our way.

My fibula was fractured about six inches up the back of my leg, and the tibia was protruding to the side about an inch and a half above the ankle joint. Sadly I was told it would require surgery.  I was instructed to go straight to an orthopedic surgeon upon arrival home.  The splint you see in the photo goes up the leg above the knee keeping the entire limb immobilized.  Walking on crutches was exciting as I dragged the useless leg across parking lots and into each rest stop along the way.

It was a long ride home.  Ol' Abner agreed to go all the way to my sister's home (12 hours up the road from Grand Canyon) for our first night of sleep.  He knew what he was getting into as we left the canyon just after noon.  It was nearly four a.m. when we finally made our way onto the front porch for family hospitality.

Speaking of family, I created havoc back in Texas during my morning visit to the clinic.  I was indulging in a chat thread with my sewing friends admiring their newest creations and briefly mentioned that I was awaiting an xray of my leg.  Of course I kept them updated for the next half hour as we progressed to a diagnosis and plan for path home.  Did I mention that there is almost no phone service in the park area.  Internet is available in a few limited places and the clinic offered the only good service I had found. As we left on the trip I had set up a group message for my children and Dancin' Girl, to keep them apprised of our safe arrival on each leg of the trip.  Dancin' Girl is an integral member of the sewing group.  Yep you can imagine the rest of this story.  She messaged the kids to see if they had checked on us this morning... an up went their antennae(?) or should it be antennas?  I'll check on that later.  Needless to say, both our cell phones started lighting up, but the calls would drop when we tried to answer or return the call. Son was texting his dad and daughter was calling, Daughter in Law was calling me and sending urgent texts. We were helpless and incognito! An hour or so up the road we were able to make calls from the interstate highway corridor. Our children were noisily concerned and not a little upset that my sewing group knew of my injury before they heard about it.  I was just too tired to explain.  

After a two day drive, our first stop in the Hill Country was the local emergency room to get that needed orthopedic referral.  The good news...xray taken when we arrived was a little different from the one prior to application of that magnificent gargantuan splint.  The fracture of my tibia was no longer displaced!  The preliminary conclusion was that surgery might not be necessary, but the final decision would be left to the specialist I was to call on Monday morning.

The Canyon! It IS GRAND!

Our trip continued from the Bay City area heading back East again via the Grand Canyon.  Grand Canyon South Rim is a long way from anywhere, but the drive is well worth the trek. Upon arrival at the park, we were ready to purchase our admission (posted as $30. per person per day) and mentioned that we thought there was a special deal for seniors!  Jackpot! I paid a $10. fee one time and received a pass valid for the remainder of my life for all occupants of my car.  My driver's license must be shown along with the pass and voila, my whole carload of people will be admitted to any national park.  Now that's a deal! (ok, we later discovered it does have some limitations.).

Mather Point near the Visitor's center

Once we had visited our hotel and asked when we might be able to check in, we had some lunch and took off to find the main attraction.  Through the gate, after attaining my lifetime pass and on to the visitor's center, we watched an informative movie and set off on the concrete path for the Mather Point Observation Point!

A long shot from the Desert View Watchtower

 A text from son that we must see the Desert View Watchtower and we set off to find it.  We returned to the town to check in to our room and asked about it.  The desk clerk gave us some less than clear directions, so we asked again as we went through the gate using our trusty pass. The  park ranger gave us a map and advised that it would show how to get there.

A view along the Desert View Drive

 We drove the distance to the Watchtower and it was time well spend.  As we drove along, glances to the left revealed seconds of glorious views as we followed the road along the south rim in search of the unknown attraction.

From the parking lot of the Watchtower

We were enthralled by the views from the Desert View Watchtower.  Thinking it might be a tower built by natives to protect themselves. It was surprising to find that it had been built using native stones and methods by a group of artists to better take advantage of the can views.  I  purchased a book detailing its vision, planning and construction (circa 1933) and am anxious to spend an afternoon reading it.

My last photo from the Canyon

Watching our time, we left the Watchtower and pulled over at several stops we had noticed on the way to the end of the drive.  Holding tickets to see the IMAX theater tour of the canyon, we wanted to be back in time to see the last showing by 8:30, but hoping to make it for the 6:30 event.  The views on every stop were breathtaking.  We agreed that the pullover with close by views would be our last stop.  It was hard to leave and we each took a dozen or so photos.  There were no railings for fences to keep us from going close to the edge for those spectacular views.  Ol' Abner ventured closer to the edge than I would, but I snapped the photo above just before I turned around and started back up the hill toward the car. 

That was the moment that I stepped on a gravel covered rock and the gravel made it's exit, taking my ripping, tearing tissue in my foot with it!  I knew the feeling of velcro being ripped apart was not a good omen.  I quickly advised everyone to NOT touch me as I glanced behind at the view you can see.  I was able to pull myself up and Ol' Abner supported me as I hobbled back to the car.  We went on to the IMAX theater in time to see the 7:30 showing of a fantastic film (from center theater with my bum foot propped up over the seat in from of me).  All absolute "must do" plans for the canyon had been completed.  

Mountain Views

Our decision to drive to San Francisco and return by way of Grand Canyon allowed for gorgeous mountain landscapes as we traveled from the Texas Hill Country, through the Texas Plains and into the the New Mexico Desert. Throughout most of our journey the highway was framed by mountain ranges.

I snapped most of these photos from the front seat of the car.  I was so grateful that Ol' Abner was taking advantage of his new improved vision and wanted to drive.  As the terrain changed, the colors and style of the hills followed. It made me wish I had majored in geology...that knowledge could have been handy here.

As we passed from New Mexico into Arizona, not so subtle changes occurred.  Grays and browns turned to Red.  Ol' Abner mused that the Indians inhabiting these mountains must have been some pretty tough cookies. (well not exactly his words, but trust me, my version is a little gentler)

It took us three days of steady driving to reach our destination in Concord, California.  Very few moments of "Are we there yet?" occurred.  Oh wait, getting out of Tuscon created a bit of trauma.  The train blocking the road under the freeway was at least ten miles long and traveling at five mph...and so we waited, and waited.

 I couldn't resist making Ol' Abner pose in front of one of those beautiful mountains as we stopped at a road side park in Arizona.  He was for once agreeable and stuck nothing in his ears and almost smiled for the camera!  Wow...success, wouldn't you say?

 

 Several sunsets delighted us as we traveled west.  I didn't get the full joy of photographing through the windshield, but take my word for it...they were awesome to see.

Crossing the border into California more hills graced the roadsides.  As we left the Los Angeles area the next morning we drove up Highway 5 (a road that didn't even exist when Ol' Abner was cruising CA as a young Marine)  The farmers signs decrying the government's taking of their water were sad.   We saw a few orchards that were completely dead and reservoirs that appeared to contain copious amounts of liquid.  Hmmm, I may need to read a little more about this.  The good news, we arrived safely in Concord in time for a lovely dinner with family and get a good night of rest before a day in the City by the Bay!

Setting Sail...FINALLY!

Beware of flying pigs! Inhabitants of the underworld should watch for icicles forming in plain sight! Ol' Abner has been booked for a cruise.  Of course, I'm going along, too. That is not part of the miracle, I've been planning this trip in some variation for twenty years or more. Three good friends, two women and one man, with a history as playmates can be traced to Ol' Abners elementary school days.  One of the women graduated high school with him and the other man and woman graduated the following year.  All three of their spouses have been following the same script for years.  Finally, these stubborn Westerner's realize the time has come.

We gathered over the past weekend and set our plan.  Excitement has been burning the phone lines, social media, and internet. We'll enjoy a four day tour of Denali National Park in Alaska, followed by a seven day southbound cruise. Two couples have never cruised, and the other shares our experience, one has cruised, one not! With my limited (only one cruise) expertise, I relied on a wonderful travel agent.  Ol' Abner is looking forward to the beautiful scenery, but finds stories of giant mosquitos a bit forbidding.  I'll stock up on insect repellent before we go!

Shop!

Why is the love of shopping considered a female trait?  I'm female and I cannot say I truly love shopping.  Well on Black Friday, I do. It's not so much the "shopping" that I enjoy as opening the gate for Christmas shopping.  I may be the only human stubbornly waiting until the day after Thanksgiving to purchase that first precious gift. That experience has always been more about the excitement of the crowds, the special offers in every store, and the hunt through a temporary obstacle course.  I prefer to shop only when I have a specific need to make a purchase.  In fact, since the new year has begun, I have purchased nothing except groceries. My house would certainly benefit from some reverse shopping i.e. donating huge volumes of "stuff", or a garage sale to sell huge volumes of other "stuff".

At our house, the man is the true shopper!  Ol' Abner has purchased everything from dog treats to tools, shoes and oh yes, a car. His playhouse is delightfully full, so full that the latest car must be stored at son's house until he can do a little rearranging. For that purpose, he just finished assembling his car-moving dolly (after all, it was on sale).  If you doubt a man's love of shopping, just turn on the Barrett-Jackson Auction on television and watch him be instantly mesmerized. I have never enjoyed the Home Shopping Network, but the ultimate version of the same is the multi-day parade across the screen of collector cars.  A friend was able to attend the actual event a couple of years ago. Just hearing him recount his day in the bidding box had my man drooling.

I'm thinking I need to start the hunt for my next cruise.  He's finally agreed to go, so I better get it booked now!  That's shopping I can enjoy.  

The Fix is in!

In case you have forgotten...or maybe you never knew, I am the one who tends to break things, NOT the fixer.  I am spending this week with my grand daughters while daughter and son in law are in London.  (Yes, I know LONDON is MY big plan, and I'll get there eventually) Daughter left lengthy instructions in case one of the girls, pets, or house breaks.  Permission slips, Insurance cards, medication schedules, class schedules, maps and contingency plans were all addressed prior to her exit from the country.  Other than the four am awakening each day, I felt certain that I was capable of maintaining a smoothly run household even in parental absence. At fourteen and seventeen, both girls are fairly self sufficient, the younger requiring a chauffeur, but otherwise knowledgeable of all things expected of her.

Pushing the handle on the toilet in the downstairs bathroom brought no response on one of those stops on the way into the house.  Even with my limited mechanical knowledge, I knew to check to see if the chain inside the tank had come loose.  It was still firmly attached to the little bar, but the little bar was just lolling around in the water attached to nothing on the other end.  I pulled on it and the toilet flushed, released it and the tank began to fill with water. You have no idea how satisfying this can be to one usually unable to make things of this nature function.  In my newfound area of expertise, I thought I would simply snap the end of the bar back into the place where it meets the handle on the inside of the tank.  It is plastic and the connection was still in place but snapped in half, never to connect again.  My first thought, Son in law will fix this easily when he returns. After about fifteen manual flushes (reminding myself each time that this is CLEAN water) it occurred to me that this might be daughter's first stop as she enters her home tonight. I thought it would be comforting to know that the part was already in place for her spouse's easy correction of the problem.  I mentioned it when talking to Ol' Abner this afternoon and he told me what I would need to buy.  As we talked it came to mind that Da' Handygirl across the street was always doing some sort of home repair including some fairly complicated plumbing projects. I tentatively mentioned her ability and asked him if I might be able to take on this project.  Since he is a few hundred miles to the south, he said "Sure", but if I can't figure it out, it will probably be helpful to son in law to have the part here when he arrives.  

With a sense of mission, I drove to the big box home repair store, purchased the required part for the toilet and returned to begin reading the instructions. Elder Grand came downstairs and I requested that she see if a pair of pliers like the ones pictured in the tool list might be found and she brought them in.  I showed her the instructions and she seemed to think this was not beyond my capabilities.  Perhaps not, but in the end, I read instructions, opened packages and she installed the new toilet flusher.  It flushes nicely, now (and I did have to keep reminding her that it was clean water).  Did I mention that she has chosen engineering as her field of study as she approaches college?

We can see it from here!

As Ol' Abner recovers from his surgery, I am looking to the near future.  I refused to cancel summer and autumn plans just in case he might be too ill to enjoy them.  It was a good decision.  As we move into July, August looks like a good time to escape from the Bayou City and return to life as usual...well, as usual as it will ever be again.  We missed a family reunion and a fiftieth anniversary party in June, but those sacrifices were understood and lauded. We will use the month of July to prepare our house in the hill country for life with a suppressed immune system.  That means removing all carpet and replacing with a solid surface flooring. The house has had only occasional occupancy for the last three months, so I'm pretty sure the dust bunnies have taken up residence. Fun events planned for August and September look like we can enjoy full participation. I may need to get home and gather my quilting supplies soon.  A quilting retreat is on the calendar and I already have the pattern.  My fingers are itching.... 

Gazing and Daydreaming

Houston is a beautiful city.  Houston is an ugly city.  I love the prettiness and choose to overlook the uncontrolled desolation right next to the beauty.  Several weeks in the Texas Medical Center have served to reinforce the diversity of views.  Driving down tree lined streets in the summer, walking on paths with lush blooming bushes, topping a rise in the freeway for a breathtaking view of downtown; all make me smile.  Just a block on either side of that same freeway, one can view boarded windows on ramshackle houses, overgrown weeded yards and stacks of trash on lawns.  Drive another block or two and again the landscape is neatly manicured, homes are well maintained and amenities abound.

From the windows in the Outpatient Center Tower I've enjoyed views at many times of day. The quiet cityscape differs greatly at this height from the bustling streets below. I've spent many days waiting in this area while Ol' Abner has a procedure or waiting with him to see the medical professionals.  What better place to sit and enjoy the beauty of this city! 

It's Simple, he said!

Things that need to be put together and snapped into place always mystify me.  What is it about clockwise vs counter clockwise that usually comes off my hands backwards?  Ol' Abner does these maneuvers without even thinking and I stand by, stumped.  A wonderful bagless vacuum cleaner with a washable filter is the answer to cleanliness, IF one can reassemble it and make it work again.  I used it yesterday morning and it pulled a large volume of dirt from the rugs. The last time it was used, he disassembled it,  I washed the filter and he put it all back together when I wasn't looking.  That's our usual process!  I didn't bring the instruction booklet for this contraption with me, in fact, I'm not sure I've even seen it.  Meanwhile, the rugs are clean and the blinds need a quick once over with the same gadget...if I can only get it back together!

Always a Texan

A few months ago I visited Seattle for the first time.  I loved every minute of my time there and understand why it's one of the favorite cities for living.  That's a tough thing for any Texan to admit.  At the same time I was in town, a young friend was being recruited as a new employee by one of the big companies based there.  We texted our locations and activities but never actually connected in person.  Still, we had a sense of sharing the trip.

Young friend was there on a lark...or so we thought.  Why not enjoy a few days in the beautiful exciting city and allow one of the most successful American enterprises a chance to wine and dine you?  She and her family were perfectly happy living in San Antonio.  True, however, to the theory of a "test drive", the ensuing offer was so very attractive that they found themselves moving to Seattle just over a month later.

We enjoyed dinner with young friend, her mother and her daughter tonight.  She is leading a team of recruiters to raid Texas for quality talent.  She has an understanding of the difficulty in choosing to leave the Lone Star State, but believes the opportunities she accepted will be inviting to a few fine ambitious Texans.  She accepted delivery of cowboy hats for the recruiters to wear during the presentations.  She can get away with it, she's from here!

Driven

My method of auto shopping is totally different from Ol' Abner's.  He reads all the auto magazine articles and researches consumer reports in magazines and on-line.  He asks his friends and then goes to the lots when sales people aren't around to look at sticker prices.  He does the old-fashioned-check-the newspaper-for-ads method and then decides the prices are way too high.  I look first at color.  When I notice a new color or new version of a classic color, it catches my eye often.  Common colors don't interest  me.  Driving a white car has always been anathema. Nevertheless the rich pearl white that appeared a few years ago, only available on some luxury models, was a color I found very appealing.

After my recent "check engine" experience while at daughter's house, Ol' Abner has been seriously kicking tires again.  He keeps directing me to some brands I've never tried...or wanted to try!  Some of them do come in rather nice colors, but they are paired with the ugliest interior colors.  I'm not having it!

I still like my like my car just fine, and that color is no longer available.  A couple of lengthy road trips are in the near future.  I feel his sense of urgency to replace my good gas mileage with another economical but comfy ride.  Now how does he know what meets his standard of comfort if he hasn't even driven one?

This can't be SLEEP

Last week I went to  a local laboratory to sleep publicly overnight.  That thought in itself was rather intimidating.  An infrared camera recording my every twist, turn, and snort in the night isn't my perception of good times.  I arrived sans face cream, hair product or lotions on my scaly body per instructions.  I completed a thick volume of paper questionnaires and readied myself for bed. Wires and electrodes were attached to every muscle in my body, or so it felt.  It would be an exaggeration to say over 600 electrodes were placed, but certainly enough were in place to monitor my every move or twitch.  The technician happily snapped a photo when I mentioned my probable likeness to a "Frankenstein type character", then continued to apply more bits of paste with electrodes inserted.  When the trussing was completed, further insult  involved insertion of fat tubes into my nostrils to force air down my throat.  I was rendered speechless with cold air expelling uncomfortably from my face.  One would think this process would be enough for anyone ever.  Oh no, I returned as instructed for a second round last night.  Even though I knew what to expect this time, it was no less uncomfortable and certainly no kin to restful. How can this be a sleep study, when very little of that actually happens.  The technician assured me I slept quite a lot last night.  I guess she should know, but for some reason I arrived home wanting nothing more than to fall into my own bed.  Two hours later I had to get up to meet another commitment, but I assure you I will sleep well tonight.  There won't be a camera anywhere nearby to capture the experience, and I will awake without the dreaded PASTE in my hair!

Can you match the other ends?

Let the wiring begin

Emerging Skills

Golf is the most frustrating and satisfying process I've ever attempted to master.  I came off the driving range this morning with my arms aching after hitting two large buckets of balls.  With three lessons behind me, I have learned to swing everything except my putter. That comes next week.  In fact, I will have two lessons next week with the final one involving an actual round of golf.  It's been frustrating being stuck on the driving range, but my training wheels will finally be removed and I'll be on my own on the course, probably before I'm ready.  I rode with Ol' Abner earlier this week as he played a round of golf on the more difficult of the two courses in our little community.  My drives will not reach the distance he sends that little ball into the air anytime soon.  The hole he reached and sank into with four strokes will likely require nine or more before I can claim success.

The beauty of the course is relaxing when riding along as a passenger in the cart, and some of the slopes are downright breathtaking (as in knuckle-clinching kind of taking away my breath). I am anxious to test my emerging skills.  Today's practice elevated my ability to curse to a new level.  It's never been a talent nurtured, yet the words seem to slip involuntarily from my lips at times.

One of the few straight level fairways on
Highland Lakes Golf course.

Second Home

     Son and Daughter In Law love to ride their motorcycles to remote parks and outposts to gather with friends and family.  When they travel on the bikes, it's difficult to haul the gear needed for camping.  Someone must usually come along with a trailer to bring tents and other supplies to the destination.  Even more inconvenient is DIL's aversion to public shower facilities.  I fully understand this concept, so I was quite happy when I was invited for a tour of the new accommodations.  

     For several months they have tossed around a choice of purchasing a heavy duty truck to store in their already parking-challenged driveway.  A camper strong enough to haul both motorcycles in it's "garage" with all the other amenities required, would surely need the power of such a vehicle.  DIL wasn't willing to give up the parking space in the garage where her vintage mustang lives, and the motorcycles fill the other side.  The driveway in front of the garage is large enough to park her daily driver and Son's pickup, but the two big gas guzzlers fill that space amply.

     A solution was discovered when a sturdy lightweight, tongue pull, "toy hauler" was located in an RV dealership just a couple of cities to the north.  Further bonus included a bathroom with separate shower, toilet and sink.  It will sleep six (two of whom must be midgets, I think) and includes a propane refrigerator and freezer, indoor and outdoor speakers for the sound system, and a rear area (garage) that folds down as a ramp to load motorcycles.  Best feature though: It can be pulled behind the SUV that DIL drives now.

Ol' Abner went with Son to pick it up after the kids had gone prior to make their choice and arrange to pay for it.  DIL decided she just couldn't wait and joined them on the trip.  I'm thinking much will be learned in the weeks to come.  Discovery that two locks are included on each door and if both are not fully engaged, the doors will open at high speed.  It only took three episodes of flapping doors to find the second lock on each door.  Furthermore, DIL and Ol' Abner suggested that son might want to travel at a lower speed than usual until he was a bit more familiar with it's capability.  He quickly pointed out the 75MPH speed limit sign and told them it was clear he was doing just fine!  

They spent the remainder of the holiday weekend shopping for "housewares and linens" for their new vacation home!

Next Lesson

My golf game is suffering!  You may wonder how a game not yet played can be in distress. PG (Professional Golfer) told me to be able to consistently hit the ball where I want it to go and we will schedule my next lesson.  My plan was to practice the process on the driving range four to five times this week. Every morning has been dedicated to something else and tomorrow will be no different.  Afternoons have reached high ninety or 100 plus degree temperatures.  I just had an epiphany!  Does any golfer EVER reach that point when the ball consistently goes where it's expected.  I hear too many expletives coming from other players to think that is the case...hmm.  Maybe I'll go ahead and call to schedule that next lesson for Tuesday morning.  I work better with a firm deadline. Besides, I can get three in a row straight down the range with a little air under them from time to time.  I'm calling PG tomorrow as soon as Ol' Abner is finished at the hospital!

FORE! well...not yet

A quiet week in our neighborhood has not been uneventful.  My decision to learn to golf has generated all sorts of excitement in Ol' Abner and several of our friends.  Lunch with a couple who golfs frequently led us on a ride to Academy where Rot'n girl could help me understand some of the equipment I might want.  I purchased a shirt with a collar, a visor, tees and shoes.  My Daisy Mae size feet wouldn't fit into the ladies shoes so the helpful sales person fitted me in men's golf shoes. It's been years since I could wear a size nine anything!  The next day we ventured over to Golf Ranch where I was fitted for clubs and bought a set for +1 ladies. (Yep, there I am, still in plus sizes)  I was told I could use either men's standard clubs or the extra length ladies clubs.  He suggested that as a beginner with no established swing and habits, a set of ladies clubs would better fit the flow of a female swing.  I think he was nicely telling me my upper anatomy wouldn't get in the way if I learned with correctly fitted clubs.  Ol' Abner has always used a little cruder way of explaining that.  After the club purchase, Ol' Abner decided we really did need the upgraded seats on our cart.  We stopped by the dealer on our way home and agreed to wait a couple of extra days to get the new cart, so red and black contoured seats can be added.

Yesterday we visited Rot'n Girl and HardTime Man's course where a pro was doing demo shots with Nike clubs.  Ol' Abner had suspected he needed to enhance his clubs with a new and better driver.  Within in a couple of swings he was driving two hundred yards with little effort.  They tell me that's pretty good.  I guess he's getting a new driver, but he wants to test a couple more before he makes his final decision.  He did enjoy sharing and hearing stories of a couple of his favorite pros.