I awoke about 5:30 a.m. and punched the Krups for coffee. I fed the cats, moaning and groaning as I do until I got water on my face and a Ketoprofen in my stomach. Then I showered and shaved and went out to read the slim little newspaper.

Wait! It is Thursday! It is my men's club golf morning out on the course!

What the Hell... I'm going this time! It has been five and a half weeks since I snapped my damned hamstring and I no longer have any pain associated with it.

I went back in and got out my golf shirt and pants. I carried the birdcage down, flipped on the Disney Channel for him, snatched my keys, wallet and the cursed cell phone and ran for the car.

At Seneca Hills, I paid up, got another coffee and went out to stretch. I managed to exercise all my 'golf muscles' and by the time we walked over to our starting tee (the four-man team hit first on number 8, which means we would finish at the seventh green. We only play nine holes.) - I was ready as I could ever be.

Now, folks, I had not even been to a driving range yet. I had not even picked up club since early May.

I blew my drive out in the middle of the fairway, 250 yards straight toward the flag! Fantastic. OK.

Several holes later, after knocking some fine tee shots and a couple pretty good short hits, I stood on number six tee. Number six is a ball-buster. It is a par three. It is 165 yards of mostly water.

We tee off from a patch about ten yards from the edge of a pond that is roughly round-shaped. It has a dike around the number six end of the pond, shared by two holes. This par three hole is designed to intimidate you. You smack your tee shot and hope you clear the 130 yards of water, get it over the dike at the far side, hopefully onto the green, which is about the same level as your feet when you stand on the tee. Beyond the opposite dike is a depression about 8 or ten feet below the dike and the green. So most shots attempt to reach that depression, which is about thirty or forty yards across, so the ball bounces up on the green and stops.

I pulled out my six iron and took one practice swing. Felt good.

I addressed the ball, made my backswing and clobbered it.

The ball shot true and high, right toward the flag. I said "get up!" and it stayed up. It fell into that depression, hopped once and rolled on the green.

Right at the hole!

I yelled, "BE THE DAMN ONE!"

It reached the hole, right on the edge of the cup, and....

... lipped out.

We got to the green and one of the guys pulled the flag so I could sink my two-foot birdie.

Damn it.

Just a note about Bunjii... Tomorrow (Friday) is the day he gets his stitches removed. He is soooo ready to rejoin the family, and I hope he doesn't have to remain in the upstairs guest room for more than one more night.