That's a peach hon!

I grew up with a love for the movie Caddyshack. I can thank my father for that. The sense of humor is right on par for him. We used to nickname the snooty neighborhood we lived in growing up "Bushwood" as a joke. Much like Home Alone I and II, Rookie of the Year, Christmas Vacation, and other classics, I can re-sight movie lines from Caddyshack to a fault. Seriously, I am sure it's obnoxious. A somewhat recent viewing of Titanic taught me that. Anyway, back in "Bushwood" or rather the glorious neighborhood of Prospect Bay in MD, we lived on a street called Fairway Island. We were the second house on the street and the tee for #10 was through our backyard. The #14 green was the backyard of our neighbor across the street. Very convenient for any man taking elementary school amateurs out with a driver, putter, and limited patience. This being about the only 4 holes of golf I have ever played in my entire life, due to the fact that I never 'picked up the game', I thought I'd attempt the driving range on my first real adult go-around. Whether you read my blog or not, I'll let you know that back in January I said that in 2013 I would learn to sew, attempt to learn the worm, and pick up golf.  

So far I've created a pillow, look like I'm seizuring (I'm getting there...trust me, it takes time), and on Wednesday night, for the first time in over 15 years, I hit about 180 golf balls with my friend Kemp. I learned a few things. My inconsistency is very consistent. I'm probably a better bowler than I will ever be a golfer. I really do love my Kentwool's, and regardless of how terrible I am I need to buy a glove. Homegirl had some sore hands. It probably didn't help that it was humid as hell. Let me paint the picture for you. I'm leaving work and call Kemp to ask if we are still going. 

 

"Kemp - do you think it's going to rain? It's really dark here" 

"I don't think so, but there's a cover there", he tells me.

"OK, great, I'm on my way". Cue the random raindrops.

 

I arrive at the driving range, we get our buckets of balls (as the employee informs us of lightning and playing at our own risk), head down below, hit maybe 5, check out the guy next to us in the hand cut muscle tee and mesh shorts, and the sky bottoms out. I insist on Kemp taking a swing. The lightning at the end was not planned, however.

 

Lucky for us it stopped about 5 minutes later, the sun came out and joined a large rainbow. Very picture perfect. I received a few pointers here and there, but like I said was all over the place. I had some drives I wish I caught on tape and of course, others I followed with "swing and a miss"....and a 30 second pause and collection of myself. I have a new found respect for the sport and look forward to improving. Pointers and company is welcomed! I will say, something about the overall silence and sound of a strong, well hit ball (not mine of course) is attractive. #AdamScott

Nobody puts Lacey in the corner

I can't say no. It's a problem. How I get myself into these 'situations' is beyond me. I recently moved out of my presh 1 bedroom 2nd floor apartment, when my much older neighbor stopped me mid move to ask for some help. He lived below me and was always so good to me. Checking in on me to make sure I was "okay", and letting me know I can always count on him. Much appreciated. So when he asked me if I knew anyone who could shag, I thought of a few people for him. The story progresses. As he continued, I learned that he has taught shag for over 20 years and his partner had moved on. Or so I thought - turns out he just doesn't like her. Regardless I made a few calls and of course no one answered. Being from the great state of Maryland, I don't have the slightest clue how to do the dance of South Carolina. Even with my years in the area. But somehow he sensed my amazing rhythm and feeling for the dance floor and told me that if I gave him 2, 2 hour lessons he could teach me and then I could teach these said lessons with him. Call it being nice, or just a good neighbor, but I agreed. 3, not 2, personal sessions (1 in the lobby of his office), led to my first night teaching a group of strangers. I'd go into the details of this group, but I don't think I'd be able to keep it together. What was supposed to be 8 homeowner couples, turned into 4 with their elementary school children. My dance partner was a little taken back. To be a fly on the wall....I'm telling you what. Brownie points. Speaking of brownies, I can't say no to those these days either. I've developed quite the sweet tooth at my new job. So maybe dancing will help with those LB's.

I will say that this past weekend on the dance floor at friends Micah and Beth's wedding, my dear friend Mitch told me that he was quite impressed with my moves...for a beginner. That is until I got a little carried away and totally smashed my face into his elbow. I'm not the best follower, and I'm sure the beverage consumption didn't help....probably didn't help his evaluation either. Oh well, I'm taking the compliment and running with it. A dance machine, this one. Couldn't get enough. The wedding in Rock Hill was a success to say the least. The added bonus...LEDO'S PIZZA! A Maryland favorite that somehow landed a spot in the thrill! SO. GOOD.

With a kickball bye Friday, and an open weekend coming up, I'm crossing my fingers for blue skies to soak up some sun, take on some golf, and enjoy some outdoor beers. Throw in a back massage after I bomb at the golf, and I'll be good to go. 

WWRLD?

I know I live in the "Bible Belt" of the south, but I may have to start sporting a WWRLD? bracelet, not to be confused with the ever so popular 'WWJD?' paraphernalia of the 90's. Let's be clear, I am not comparing Ryan Lochte to Jesus, but am I curious as to what he would do, too? Why yes, I am. And coincidentally you can worship both on the same day. Give just a few minutes of your Sunday TV time to What Would Ryan Lochte Do? - this kid is great. To those who are probably already jumping in and thinking, Lacey, you couldn't be more wrong, 'the guy is an idiot', I somewhat agree, however his 7 Olympic medals, his own trademarked phrase, and self made reality show shines a little brighter than what you may have to offer. Throw in that bod and one of his v-neck tees and you've lost yourself a battle. JEAH, I'd drink a beer with him! Give it a chance. Sundays. 10:30 pm on E! 

she still needs a name

Last week while I was moving, Dora (my Explorer) had quite the hiccup. Her transmission blew. $3,000 for a new one, or $2,200 for a rebuild. No dice. She is a little past her prime to throw that kind of money at her. I asked myself, WWRLD? Well, Ryan would go buy a new car. So I did. I bought a Jeep Patriot. How ironic and fitting, don't you think? I love America, he swim's for America. Two peas in a pod. 

Friday, our kickball team, Pitch Slapped, had a rough start and at the end of the time slot we were at a tie. WWRLD? He'd ask for another inning. So we did. We killed 'em. Now, 4-0, we are undefeated both on the field and in the bars. So it's all a coincidence, but rightfully so asking yourself what Ryan Lochte would do may be the way to go. Just look at that face. Swag.