Because I was up anyway.

Perhaps it was because I had seen a news story on Yahoo, or perhaps it was because I drank most of a twenty ounce bottle of water before going to bed, but I was up at 4:25 a.m. this past Tuesday morning (8/28/7). The second time that night. I remembered a total lunar eclipse was going on and at that moment was reaching its peak here in Austin TX. After a few moments of arguing with myself, I put on some shorts and went out into the front yard. Kasey our dog padded along with me.

I looked around for a moment or two at the sky not seeing the moon right away, but located it about halfway up off the horizon to the southwest from the end of our driveway. Only the lower edge was fully lit. The rest of a nearly full moon was shadowy and dull, as if clouds were obstructing the view, only not by Earthly clouds, but those that might be around the moon itself. No changes of color of the moon this time meaning it did not run red with blood or anything.

I looked around the neighborhood and all was quiet. No other nerdy types out with their dogs looking at the moon. The main thorough-fare near our house was very quiet and a pleasant breeze was blowing.

After about five minutes I took a final look at the dusky moon and headed in. I marvel at how these eclipses are predicted and with such accuracy. It wasn't an awesome display of celestial power, but a nice cerebral moment, a chance to contemplate one's place in the world, but five minutes was all I could stand. Kasey failed to notice at all.

Sunday Golf

I went back to Morris Williams this past Sunday and got in a round. A pleasant 80 for the day. I got out of my car at ten till three and walked straight to the first tee. Unfortunately a double bogey waited for me at the end of the first hole. A pretty hot day, temps near 100. For the first time though, I had a brand new bagboy cart for my clubs. I felt a little awkward pushing that thing at first since the only people I'd seen using on are my dad, my father in law, and my dad's golfing buddies. By the end of the front nine tho I was appreciating not having to carry my clubs.

I was part of a fivesome this time. Again I was the only walker. I have found that riders don't have a lot of traits that walkers have. For example, they are less apt to watch where their ball goes probably thinking that being in a cart will afford them loads of time to look for their shot. Riders also tend to think they've hit their ball much further than they actually do often driving past their ball. Since I am walking I will usually find others' shots as I approach.

Golf usually tells you something about the people you're playing with. On Sunday, one guy was a tremendous overcusser, a term borrowed from The Ticket radio station. Nearly every sentence, exclamation, or utterance was laced with profanity. I don't think I am prudish, and I hear much of this language everyday at work, but geeesh, give it a rest. Plain offensive. One of the other players was talking much of the round. He was a very good player probably shooting around par, but always seemed to be going on about something. And not all of it was bad or uninteresting, but a constant flow, and at times he made an effort to outdo the overcusser. The other two players had the same first name, Brett I think, and at the time I considered this a good thing because it was one less name to remember. Both were 90's golfers, sometimes hitting good shots, but hacking away on others, a pretty common trait of myself most of the time. They were good company though. They had a couple of bets going and I goaded both of them off and on to double or press the bet because the other guy was failing.

I really like my clubs now. Probably playing my best golf ever. Uncle Eric picked out some good ones for me. It seems also that somewhere between dog-tired and total exhaustion I hit the most optimum groove. Everything works, but it only lasts for a hole or three. Today it kicked in on 15 tee - and 16 was total golf consciousness as driver (out drove everyone drilling tee shot perfectly in the middle, and nearly too far as it almost went through the dogleg) wedge to 6 feet, drain putt dead in the heart for birdie. On the day though chipping and putting was an adventure.

A good day on the whole.