Yes, even the gals were poking fun at me, but I was hoping that Mary Ellen would not be further drawn into the harassing. “Dick, you know how every two weeks or so, we take turns cleaning out the fridge, throwing out items that are expired, and wiping the shelves?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Well, I think it’s your time of the month.”
Then she started laughing uncontrollably at her own joke, which I have to admit was far superior to most of the others I had already heard that day. I had taken enough flack and needed a break. “Where are you going?” Mary Ellen asked.
“I have an appointment to get my hair done. Jeesh, I mean, to have my hair cut…my hair cut. Now I’m doing it to myself.”
This past Saturday I told my younger golfing partners that I was going to hit from the men’s tees, hoping it would end the abuse. Of course, I did end up hitting most of my second shots from the ladies’ tees. Then on Sunday there was a mixed tournament where the senior men and women played together. After we had all teed off, the search began for our respective shots. “I think I found your ball,” called Randy, who had walked down the left side of the fairway.
“Is my ball the farthest?” I asked.
“No, but it is the pinkest.”