There must be a light under the bushel!

Smack...Ouch!

How can one tiny, almost weightless little ball feel like a boulder with deep valleys and ridges?!

OK, it was my fault. A lesson I certainly won't have to be taught twice.

My friend and I went to play golf on Tuesday. We were on the back nine, and I was playing pretty damn well, for me anyway. The day had been slow going because apparently we were not the only ones off early for the Thanksgiving holidays.

There was a single guy ahead of us who was playing several balls on each hole, and a group of two was ahead of him. The twosome was discussing some way to save the world or something equally important as they meandered their way through the course.

We had been waiting patiently through each hole (the impatience was being suppressed through an extreme force of will). Never once did they ask us if we'd like to play through, and we were starting to take it personally. Maybe it was because we were women?? Anyway, very bad golf etiquette!

Another single player was behind us, and he caught up with us on the 9th hole. We asked if he'd like to just join us instead of waiting.

So, our new partner is groaning and bitching with us about the jerks ahead of us (all the impatience just toppled out once we had someone to vent with us!). He'd been playing pretty well from what we could tell when he was behind us, but I guess we rubbed off on him.

Still, he seemed to have decent control of the ball. Never, ever assume something like that!

He hit off in some trees, and we helped him hunt for his ball. When he found it, we were about 15 yards ahead of him, but fairly safe off to the left side. That is, unless he were to slice it. Again, never, ever assume!

So, I'm checking out this tree that I really should stand behind, then Whack!. The ball goes sailing...Right at me! I start to slide to the left, but the ball sort of floats in a zig-zag line. What to do?! I sort of freeze at this point and turn a little away from the impact. Smack! The ball hits me just on the outside of my right knee, right on a bone.

I played it pretty cool, if I do say so myself. A little soundless ouch and a painful chuckle. The poor guy. He felt awful. I tried to tell him it's not his fault. I was the idiot who didn't move out of the way. He's inconsolable. He keeps blaming himself for his shitty hitting.

We'll, poor guy lasts a couple more holes and then calls it a day. He says he just needs to quit before it gets any worse.

So, we wave him off and then it's time to look at the damage. I hadn't wanted to take a peek while he was still around because I didn't want him to feel even worse, and I just knew it was going to be ugly.

I roll up my pant leg and take a deep breath. There! A little puffy and a red circle. That's it. But it really hurt! I needed proof. I wanted a battle wound so everyone would know how brave I'm being in the face of such a terrible injury!

OK, it will be worse the next day, right? Well, it's a little discolored and more puffy. But, it still really doesn't look as bad as it feels.

Well, by today, the pain has lessened quite a bit, but it still feels bruised. It finally looks a bit worse, but now I feel like a weanie whining about it when it doesn't really bother me that much anymore.

I hardly got to play for any sympathy at all with this trauma. That's the real tragedy here.