It's a Cinderella Story

First--a humble disclaimer.  I don't golf.  I know nothing about golfing.  If I picked up a club I would flop back and forth between dangerous and ludicrous.  None of that, however, keeps me from being an amused and bemused spectator.

Living next to the first fairway on the Johnny Goodman golf course is a little bit like living on the set of Caddyshack.  I keep waiting for Bill Murray to show up mumbling about "a Cinderella story."  When there is lightning and thunder I wait for some Episcopal bishop to come along in the midst of the perfect golf game.  And I wonder sometimes how squirrels might respond to the application of plastic explosives.  After all, I can't get to the gophers.

Bella, our Viszla pup, and I were walking along the boundary fence this morning.  A foursome was just getting underway on the first hole.  I heard the "plink" of a plastic wood against the ball.  Then I ducked for cover.  I heard a small branch snap and leaves fall as a screamer went a bit off course.  Fortunately it hit a small tree on the other side of the fairway, but it's best to be cautious under such circumstances.

We kept walking as I heard the next "plink" and then the slight thud as a ball landed about four feet inside the fence near us.  The ball rolled away from the fence and down the hill in the right direction.  It's better to be lucky than good, both for the golfer and for us.  We kept moving and got out of range.

As we made our way back toward the apartment, I noticed a cart roving the outer boundaries of the landing area.  I thought perhaps they had missed the fortunate ball closer to the hole.  I was wondering if they were surprised that one of their shots might have gone so far, so I pointed out the ball location.

Then I saw the issue.  A brand new Titleist was lying in the grass on my side of the fence.  I leaned down, picked it up, and then I couldn't help myself.  "Titleist?" I asked innocently.  Suddenly I teleported from Caddyshack to the Seinfeld episode where Kramer knocks the golf ball into the whale's blow hole.  I bit my lip and tossed the ball over the fence.

The owner frowned so loudly that I could barely hear his muttered "Thank you."

Then it struck me.  I was having a poopy morning--an introvert hangover from so much interpersonal relating yesterday.  Nothing was good.  Now I ran into this guy who was golfing with buddies on a beautiful course on a crystal clear and cool morning without a bit of breeze.  This guy was lucky enough to get his errant ball back and have a great day, and all he could worry about was taking an f----ing extra stroke.

Life is far too good and sweet to worry about such little things.  We have so much and it is all so wonderful.  Thank you, Lord, for the reminder and the helpful kick in the spiritual pants.

It is a Cinderella story every day.