My Apologies
I've just checked my email messages for the first time in quite a while and found this one from a disgruntled reader (Baker):
The High Meadows fairways were, indeed, pastoral. With the rain we got on Thursday, they were as lush and green as I've ever seen them. The greens, too, were spectacular.
Yes, we did burn a little wood and made Basque chicken wings for the appetizer and "chicken on a throne" for the main course on Wednesday night. If you are going to cook yardbird, that's a mighty good way to do it. Just drink half the can beer, add herbs of your choice to the remainder, and set the chicken on the can (opened end inside the bird, of course) with a small potato over the neck opening to keep the moisture in. Stop cooking when the temperature of the thigh bone reaches 180°F.
Turns out that the really big breasted women were in the band that performed Saturday evening. Its name is UBU and the whole bunch are school teachers from Greensboro. They are really good and always lots of fun. You should have seen Lyle out there on the dance floor doing the Funky Chicken. Of course, everyone else was doing the Twist.
I'm still using those Pro V1's that Lyle gave me for my birthday. Yes, they are a mighty good ball and you can really put some stink on them. As for their flight, well, it's like Tommie always says, "It ain't the fiddle; it's the fiddler."
Post menopausal woman - kill or not to kill? Now that there question is a little touchy, Bro, in most legal circles. However, I'm going to go out on a limb for you this time and say that I believe the only reason this subject was not addressed directly in either the Constitution or the Bill of Rights is that women just didn't live that long back there when they were written over 300 years ago. But, then again, menopause could just be God's way of evening things out: if women have to live through the birthing of children, men have to live though their menopause. I discount this theory, however, because child birthing cannot possible be that painful, can it?
In any case, it's certainly no worse than watching NCSU lose a football game in Chapel Hill under a Carolina blue sky.
Time for a catch-up nap.
The second day without a blog post. Send Lyle home. Get back to business. He really must be a bore, if you can't think of anything to blog, or he is such a bad partner that your speechless. Maybe you have writers block, and you need a little motivation/ideas. Ah! pastoral fairways, Carolina blue skies, the sweet smell of burning fruit wood, big breasted mountain woman going "let's party", NCSU football, the aerodynamics of a Pro V1, post menopausal woman - kill or not to kill, anything, PLEASE.It's true that I have been somewhat remiss with my blogging of late. I, being a consummate Southern host, made plenty of firewater available to the Indians. That, you must understand, gets Lyle to bed quite early so that he can get up at 6:00 am. Firewater has quite the opposite effect on Bobbette. Indeed, it tends to cause her to want to go to bed around 6:00 am so that she can sleep quite late. Subtracting time for cooking breakfast, playing golf and mixing firewater, there just wasn't much time left for sleeping or blogging. (I even missed two afternoon naps!) The good news for you, dear reader, is that we sent Lyle and Bobbette home yesterday morning.
The High Meadows fairways were, indeed, pastoral. With the rain we got on Thursday, they were as lush and green as I've ever seen them. The greens, too, were spectacular.
Yes, we did burn a little wood and made Basque chicken wings for the appetizer and "chicken on a throne" for the main course on Wednesday night. If you are going to cook yardbird, that's a mighty good way to do it. Just drink half the can beer, add herbs of your choice to the remainder, and set the chicken on the can (opened end inside the bird, of course) with a small potato over the neck opening to keep the moisture in. Stop cooking when the temperature of the thigh bone reaches 180°F.
Turns out that the really big breasted women were in the band that performed Saturday evening. Its name is UBU and the whole bunch are school teachers from Greensboro. They are really good and always lots of fun. You should have seen Lyle out there on the dance floor doing the Funky Chicken. Of course, everyone else was doing the Twist.
I'm still using those Pro V1's that Lyle gave me for my birthday. Yes, they are a mighty good ball and you can really put some stink on them. As for their flight, well, it's like Tommie always says, "It ain't the fiddle; it's the fiddler."
Post menopausal woman - kill or not to kill? Now that there question is a little touchy, Bro, in most legal circles. However, I'm going to go out on a limb for you this time and say that I believe the only reason this subject was not addressed directly in either the Constitution or the Bill of Rights is that women just didn't live that long back there when they were written over 300 years ago. But, then again, menopause could just be God's way of evening things out: if women have to live through the birthing of children, men have to live though their menopause. I discount this theory, however, because child birthing cannot possible be that painful, can it?
In any case, it's certainly no worse than watching NCSU lose a football game in Chapel Hill under a Carolina blue sky.
Time for a catch-up nap.
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