Josie's bracket is kicking ass around here.  She has Duke and Syracuse in the final and her Dad and brothers all picked teams who've already been eliminated.

She also joined the golf team.  Her first practice was yesterday.

I picked her up at the course at about 5:20. 

"Was it fun?" I asked.

"Not really, but I think it's going to be fun."  Part of the problem today was that she hadn't dressed warmly enough.  It was sunny but cold and there was wind.

"I certainly have a whole new respect for golfers," she told me on the ride home.  "It's really hard."

"Are you kidding?  when you stop and think about it, it's almost impossible."

We talked about the grip and the swing and how much there is to learn and think about and that the key is to practice til you can do it without having to think about it and relaxing, which is almost impossible and that's why even the pros sometimes run into trouble with their swings...

This morning she was talking with her dad (loves golf; no good at it) about how hard it is to hit the ball when she said something that I found truly scary.

"When you do finally hit the ball," she grinned "It feels really good."

"Great."  I turned to Jay.  "It's like we just gave our daughter heroin."

"Naw!" he said.  "It's good for her!"

We'll see, my precious.  We shall see.

 

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