A new hobby

It has finally happened… I, Kali, have taken up golf.

It’s difficult for me to sum up the lack of enthusiasm I have had for golf for my entire life.  Both of my parents play, and have played for the entirety of my living memory.  They also both watch golf on TV, although my Dad more so than my Mom.  (And let me tell you, if there’s one thing more boring than discussing golf, it’s watching golf on TV.)

Now, they were really wonderful about not pushing my brother, sister, or I into golfing – they loved it, but we didn’t have to.  Sometimes we would go out to the club with them and drive the golf carts (this became infinitely more enjoyable after I taught myself to knit), but for the most part we were allowed to define how much we were involved with the sport.

As I’ve never seen much point in hitting balls with a stick and then chasing them, golf hasn’t really appealed.

Then I met Rob.  He golfs.  He golfs like I ride horses – from the time he was very young, and he loves it.

My Dad was thrilled.  I saw a lot of outdoor knitting time in my future.

The problem with Rob’s golfing (and I do this with things too, I am not casting aspersions on his character) is that for him golfing is as much a social activity as a passion.  He wants to be WITH someone when he’s golfing, and who can blame him?  He’s also very shy, so he doesn’t want to be randomly paired with people he doesn’t know at a public course.

So we’ve gone golfing with my parents (well, he’s gone golfing with my parents – I’ve gone golf cart knitting), have gone to the driving range together, and I even allowed him to show me how to swing a bit.

This is when I could tell that I was fighting a losing battle.

Rob always looks so happy when we go to the range, even if he’s not having the best golfing day.  We started going to the golf store and he would make idle comments about getting me a club, or a glove, or a pair of shoes, and I’d always turn him down because I’m not a golfer.

After two trips to the driving range I conceded this might not be the most boring game in the entire world… after all, there IS still baseball.

After three trips to the driving range where I had to borrow his sweaty old golf glove, I let him buy me a glove of my own.

And after four trips he had purchased the book The Women’s Guide to Golf.

Can you see where this is going?

Yep… those are mine.  (You can’t see it very well, but they are light gray with a pink and white flower pattern as an accent.  Yes, this is important.)

I have begun taking lessons with the DC Golf School out on the island the Jefferson Memorial is on.  It has a public course and a public range, and if you’re in the area and want to learn to golf, I very highly recommend Shaun who is my instructor.  I doubt I’ll be ready to play even a single hole for a while yet, but I don’t mind.

(This may look peaceful, but beyond the trees to the left and over the river is Reagan National Airport... the planes buzz this place every 10 minutes or so.)

I realized a few months ago that while I may never understand why people hit balls with a stick and then chase after it to do it again, it doesn’t matter why the do it.  I do it to spend time with my husband, who I love more than anyone else in the world, and who I enjoy making happy.  If playing golf together is a way we can spend 4 hours together at a time, that’s awesome, and bonus points for it being outside.

I may never be a spectacular golfer, and I may never find a purpose to golf outside of spending time with family and friends, but I’m OK with that.

Despite a lovely morning spent in a pretty good golf lesson, the one question I am left with is: what can I knit to decorate my bag?

A golfer I may become… but a golf cart knitter is who I am.

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