It was a gorgeous fall day here in Connecticut on Sunday, so I decided it was time to face the music and invite Ernestine Driver (capricious vixen) and my friend, Georges, to join me on the range at a nearby golf course. True confession: I didn’t play one drop of golf this summer.
Yes. Between the renovation-from-hell on my house and another killer attack of poison ivy, my cortisol levels were, shall we say, elevated. Adding rusty golf to the mix seemed unnecessarily masochistic.