Sunday, June 19, 2016

Putt-Putting at the beach

Fuzzy is sleeping right now. Bennie and Birdie are watching YouTube and I am procrastinating getting entrenched with another grant. We are at the beach house where we have been for almost a week. Husband basically hog-tied me last week. He told me to get the kids out of the house and go have fun!

We packed five sets of clothes and thanked my parents for investing in a washer and dryer a few years ago. When I was a kid, we had to walk up the street to get fresh water for Ora's Well. Okay, that is an exaggeration. The truth is that my DAD had to walk up the street to Ora's to get fresh water. When I was a kid, we had a large basin sink with hot salt water on one side and cold salt water on the other. We still don't have central heating and air, but we do have internet and cable television. ThankyouJesus!

Before we left for our summer extravaganza at the beach, I made a bunch of "tickets" (Birdie's word, not mine) and divided them into two categories: Inside and Outside. When we grow bored of the beach or it is raining, we pull a ticket. Today, the weather was not stifling so I changed our plans of heading to the pool and pulled a ticket.


When I was a kid, there was a putt-putt course just past where Ora's used to be and an arcade was next to it. Mama and Daddy would hand us old putters, cheap golf balls and send us up the street after hours (or during hours and we would hop the fence and play the middle 9).

Putt-Putt has evolved since the arcade was torn down and the putt-putt course demolished.

For one-- we have to pay and for two-- a parent has to be involved.

Off our foursome goes on our golf cart to the closest course. If there is one paying adult, the kids can play for free.

Excuse me? I can pay for myself to pick up a putter and the kids can play for.... free? Yes, please.

And I even had a coupon.

We were all having fun... until the shortest one found the water hazard... and then the kids started having a whole bunch-a fun and mom was a little, uh, soaking wet from the blue water.

I was assured by the guys who manned their stoner-summer jobs that the water is "extremely clean and the only reason it is blue is because of a very small dye pack." Yeah, sure. Whatever. I just need to know if Fuzzy is going to grow a third eye. If he is, I can bet money it will be a blue one.

Remember when you were a kid and your mom told you it was toilet water/sewer water/anything that tells you that the water is incredibly un-clean and your arm will fall off it you go near it? As a kid, you'd peer at it and wonder if Blinkie will pop out. at least, I did. Turns out, our moms were liars. {nothing personal, Mama. Love you!} You can't get ink poisoning. The water is "very clean with a very small dye pack." And strangers don't, in fact, put hypodermic needles with HIV in the Halloween candy bowl. They just didn't want us to jump in the blue water, color on ourselves, or be rude and grab a bunch of candy from a bowl. Go figure. I know these things now that I am a mother.

Nine dollars, 2 hours, and 22.4 holes later, Birdie made the starling discovery that when your ball drops in on 18, it is gone. She cried. At that point, it was trifecta. Fuzzy cried when I finally pulled him from water- every time I pulled him from the water-- because there was definitely at least four times. Bennie had cried because ... well, I don't really know why she cried.

Apparently, it was lunchtime.

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