We’re done. It’s very fancy as Redstone will be hosting the Shell Houston Open in two weeks. Our forecaddy Mark grew up in Omaha and moved to Houston from the Bronx. He’s a Yankees fan. We tipped well.
Now we’re waiting for lunch discussing deep topics.
Neither outdoor mall or business district nor convention center, it makes perfect sense in this car based landscape. A marital aid emporium with a huge lot and Vegas style signage next to the Dillards next to a parking ramp decorated with a Greco-Roman fountain, next to a three story colossal Costco? It’s all there at the Galleria. Like a thirty year old showgirl who’s run a few laps in her day, the place is all business and looks better at night than during the day.
We breakfast and off to Redstone for the third and final round. The weather is glorious. Tee time 930.
Home is where your family is, not where you used to live. I idealize New York all the time but Des Moines is home. Golf, 740 at Houston National then 130 at Black Rock.
Pilsner Urquell on draft. Civilization.
Goode and Company, brisket, Jalapeno pork sausages, and smoked ribs with side of cole slaw, beans, and cheese bread. Married men can happily do few things without guilt: eat, drink occasionally, talk a lot about stuff, and play golf.
People drive impressively fast on Rte 59, on of the main arteries. TX is deregulated wide open. There is also no zoning. Was that a burger place or a strip joint next to the school? Probably both. Lots of cops -could be shooting a reality show.
Renting a minivan. That must make KY cry a little bit inside. Unfortunately, they don’t make 911’s that carry 4 golf bags.
Santa Rita of Cascia, Patron Saint of the Impossible
J, mysterious lady of wonders, gave the rarest of gifts to me a month ago. It’s a passport so rare that it has caused gasps of astonishment among my fellow married men. Yes, I got the green light to go on a golfing weekend road trip to Houston with three of my golfing colleagues from Des Moines.
Why is this such a great gift? Because J gave it to me with no strings attached -no emotional collateral or labor based mortgages. It was a gift given from a wife to her man from the heart. That’s why my partner, DC observed to me yesterday, “You married a saint.”
Indeed I did.