I'm technically on vaca right now, doing my time in northern Wisconsin where there is no cell phone access or Internet, except at this nifty little cafe with Wifi, where I now find refuge from a house full of people, including my dad, stepmom, stepbrother and his girlfriend.
The reason we're in northern Wisconsin is because of a golf tournament at the local state park. My dad has played in this tournament for the last 28+ years. It's a tradition in the family every summer to drive four hours north to this little piece of 1950s heaven and get away from the city, horns, drunk baseball fans and work. No McDonalds, cable television or Starbucks. It's a test of your attention span and how well you can entertain yourself.
And as one of the women in our group, I wake every day of the golf tournament and join my dad on the course, dutifully playing Suzy Homemaker for him until my stepmom arrives, when I then turn into a rabid fan.
This is a very serious job for anyone joining us for the golf tournament and as a woman you're required golf tournament duties entail:
- Waking at an ungodly hour to join your man (in this case my dad) on the course
- Provide moral support
- Drive the golf cart and surrender it upon command
- Cheer when your man does well
- Say nothing when do they badly on a hole
- Pick up golf clubs that have been thrown aside in anger
- Take pictures
- Keep score
- Bring and maintain the cooler for yours and your man's cart - provide them with the requested food when necessary
- Chat with the other daughters, wives and girlfriends before the 10th hole, bragging about how your man is doing
Yes, I'm Suzy Homemaker on crack and while I'm a feminist and independent woman, I don't mind doing this stuff once a year. Even if the golf course bathrooms/out houses are beyond atrocious, it's another sign of how much I love my dad.
Last year, my dad was playing against a long-time friend of his, and whoever won that day's match would go on to the championship round the next day. My dad was beating this guy by only a few holes and I could tell that the thought of having to eliminate his friend from the tournament was weighing on him. So I did what any good supporter would do and I gave him a Vince Lombardi-like pep talk.
Me: What's wrong?
Dad: I'm only up by one hole, if I win this next one, Mr. X is out of the tournament
Dad: Well I feel bad
Me: What? Don't feel bad, do you think Mr. X is going to give up his seat in the championship because he would feel bad about beating you?
Me: That's right, someone has to lose today and it's going to be him, it sucks but you're not a loser, we're winners, you raised me to be a winner and now you're going to be
Dad: I raised you to be a leader
Me: Whatever, go out there and beat him and if it makes you feel better, don't crush him, but win, win, win, win!
Dad: You're right
Me: No shit I'm right, go team!
And my dad did win and I made sure to clap and cheer when he did. I think it boosted his self-esteem for the championship round the next day. Unfortunately he lost, but he played well.
Well it's time for me to go back to our rented house, change for dinner and pack my dad's cooler for the next day. My voice is actually kind of sore from cheering today too so I should rest. One of the wives was giving me a "look" today when I was bragging about how well my dad was playing (unbeknownst to me, he was playing against her husband). Time to sharpen the nails in case she gets in my face. Yes I'm a scratcher and a biter.
Full vaca wrap-up will be coming this week, I have plenty of unique photos to share, but I leave you today with this image of a little visitor (aka a wild turkey) that came out on the 7th hole today.