are meant to prevent EXCRUCIATING post-bucket-of-balls-at-the-driving-range tendonitis. ow ow ow. it's a good thing my job consists of 99% sitting in a not-so-ergonomic chair and typing. *limp wrists*
we took poppa d out to the driving range yesterday morning to shoot a bucket of balls. i had fairly consistent luck hitting about 100-125 yards, straight, with my rented driver. this prowess on the greens is offset by more than a few ABYSMAL shots that would ricochet off the side of my little driving range cubicle OR land spectacularly and tantalizingly a few feet away from me. me: "can i go and grab the ball and re-hit it if it's so close?" the dotytron: "absolutely not." i also like to MILK my bucket of balls. i do a lot of thinking and psyching myself up before a shot. the dotytron thinks it's a mistake. he claims it's a mechanical thing so you should just keep cranking. i had decent luck with a 7iron but i was way more inconsistent. the point is: I LOVE THE DRIVING RANGE AND I KIND OF LOVE GOLF. i definitely did better when i wasn't focusing on cranking and hacking away at the ball but just let myself relax into the swing. in other news: the rubber tees at that driving range (beach fairway) are set unnaturally high. seriously, the ball is like, 2" above the ground, minimum. it really messes with your game.
we collected momma d and whisked them to our place for a father's day brunch of corned beef hash and over easy eggs (thrifty housewife alert! last of the leftover corned beef used up!) and oat scones with devonshire cream and jumbleberry jam. it was a super-fortifying breakfast for what would turn out to be a day of home-based busybodying and crafting.
home-based busybodying is KIND OF AMAZING. sure it sucked being inside all day when i could have been, i don't know...walking the syringe infested boardwalk at the beach; or...rubbing elbows with sweaty, greasy, bleary-eyed hipsters spending mad ducats on queen west; possibly...squatting and listening to reggae in kensington market and avoiding being hit by bedraggled, emaciated, young'uns on fixed gear bikes. the point is: that life is NOT for me. no no, i'd rather be re-gluing the joints on the telephone tables and reupholstering the seats (staple guns are THE BEST!) (wearing my ear plugs and safety goggles of course) or scrubbing the rust off of my dumpster-rescued chrome and naugahyde chair or cleaning off the school desk or packing up books and vhs and dvds and forcing the dotytron to get rid of same or making boxes with packing tape or labeling said boxes or taping up paint samples and considering them ad nauseum with the dotytron.
that's what we did. he also used our new drill bits to drill tidy little holes in the back of the rosewood buffet and set up our home entertainment system complete with bumpin' sound system. it was so much fun! this is our life now, folks. we basically spent the rest of the evening BEAMING at our rosewood buffet. lol! i kind of always knew in my heart of hearts that home ownership was going to be the busybody project of all puttering in the known world and that i would take to it and be as happy as an otter cavorting belly up in the water.
for dinner i made a beet salad with peeled, cold, sliced beets on top of some arugala, bedecked with crumbled goat's cheese and chopped pistachios. i dressed it with a sweet-lemon vinaigrette. i also made these zucchini pancakes. i got the idea from my old supervisor T. that's what she does with her zucchini blossoms. she chops them up (in my case i just used a regular old zucchini, grated on the coarse side of the box grater) and mixes it with egg and just enough flour to make a thin batter (it's mostly egg). i added salt and pepper and fried them up. they're delicious warm or cold or room temperature. i sided them with sour cream with fresh julienned mint mixed in. they were SCRUMPTIOUS.
we've started watching "mad men." it's not bad. i kind of like it. the episodes go down real easy and i love the set design and have the hots for joan's outfits and torpedo boobs.
the dotytron is making me dinner as we speak. we're having spaghetti with pancetta and caramelized onions and black pepper and grated parm (kind of like a carbonara minus the eggs) with that italian antipasto salad we're obsessed with. eaten al fresco. ah, summer. ah, backyard. i will miss thee. eating under the sky is one of life's greatest pleasures. i think we're going to try to do some frisbeeing in the park, post-foodstuffs.