I was once a happy happy happy golf widow. My DH would say he was hitting the links and that meant, if I was lucky enough to get the kids to their friends' homes, a nice afternoon dedicated to me. He would sometimes ask if I wanted to join him on the driving range, but, no, I had more important things to do, like attend to me. I watched his silly tournaments on television with him and clapped politely when he played at a few local opens, but it wasn't anything big, not like the Red Sox.

Two weeks ago, I gave in and joined him on the driving range. Then I joined him again. Then, on my evening out, I went by myself. Then I went again. I was puzzled. What is it about hitting that ball with that oh so satisfying thwack? Why did I feel such satisfaction when I swung the driver and saw the ball arc high and far and straight for 75 or 100 yards? What was up with me when I swung the iron and scared a goose near the 75 yard flag I was aiming for that made me happy?

This morning I played my first round of nine holes. My score was somewhat closer to basketball, but that doesn't matter. I'll do better next time... did I just say that?

I was always proud of my long, manicured nails. When I broke the thumbnail on my left hand, I considered it good for my drive. No more digging into my right palm.

When I chipped out of the sand trap and landed feet away from the hole, I glowed all over.

I once had the common sense to come in from the rain. When I was out on the eighth hole and felt the first raindrop, I shrugged it off. It wasn't like I would melt or anything drastic like that.

When the old guy who probably sat behind the guy who invented golf in third grade asked me how long I had been playing and said, when I answered it was my first time, that if I kept it up I should consider signing up for a tournament or two in a year, why did I feel like my teacher gave me a gold star?

I hate golf. It has disrupted my way of life. Now I have to take a hot bath and get to bed. I have a 9 o'clock tee time, this time for 18 holes.

Uhura