one of yer better sundays...

Who ever objected to hand-me-downs didn't have mine as brothers.

For my birthday a couple of weeks ago, younger brother gave me a complete set of used, although newly-gripped, and just plain mighty fine golf clubs, while elder brother provided an old pair of fairway spikes and passes to one of the nicer public-18s, i.e., in Brookline, with which the three of us, along with elder's old army buddy, tee'd off this morning at 8:00 a.m. The forecast promised t-storms, prompting elder to suggest that, should it indeed storm with the usual bolts from the gray/blue, I should stand still holding my 3-iron aloft. I grinned and said, "and do it over there?"

But the skies withheld, although the humidity had already dropped precipitously from yesterday, and made for a right pleasant morning of recreation and exercise. Don't ask me the score, I'm new at the game and I've been assured rookies receive a year's reprieve from the golfing Gods.

So we had some fun and felt pretty good about ourselves, then off we went caravanning the surface streets of Beantown to Southie and Amrhein's for a fabulicious brunch and the pleasure of watching your! New England Patriots stomp the ever-loving beJesus out of the J-E-T-S Jets Jets Jets. Take that New Yawk!!

Is why I moved back up here, don'tcha know: Days like this.