Sunday, October 7, 2018

I'm Too Loud for Golf


I’m Too Loud for Golf

Bob and I are thinking of retiring sooner than later in, despite the obvious cliche, Florida.

When I told my gal pals they uttered a collective gasp. “You can’t be serious?"  “You’re not that old yet!” What about your skin?”  "Don’t you have to be a meth head to live in Florida?!”  “Or Jewish?!”  

I laughed off the hysterics until Shari offered her two cents.

“Marianne, you can’t move to Florida. You don’t golf.”

“How about tennis?

“You’re way past the legal limit of cortisone shots,” Shari shot back.


“Face it. Your spine is shrinking. How do you plan to get the ball over the net? Next?”


“Good luck finding a sports bra that’ll hold those puppies up through that crap.” 

“Then what’s left? Chair Yoga? Mah Jong with the Jewish widows at the deli? By the way, why is all Jewish deli food beige or gray?” 

Shari got that Shari-look in her eye. “Bob’s got a birthday coming up, right?”

“What’s that got to do with Florida?”

“You’re buying yourself golf lessons for Bob’s birthday. You’ve got a few months to take them. Then, on his birthday, you take him golfing and show him you’re ready for the Sunshine State.”

The notion seemed faintly romantic until I remembered the day I met Bob’s brother-in-law, David, who asked, “Do you golf?” Bob chimed in before I could answer. "No. No, she doesn’t." 

This was going to be a tough task. 

By the time Bob’s birthday rolled around I was ready for an easy round of nine holes—didn’t want to “over impress” him after all. 

Imagine his surprise when his surprise gift was a round of golf with me. That was a fun moment. But, he was a trooper and off we went to the links.

With each successful whack of the ball, I let out an excited “Whoop! Whoop!” and did a “Dab” or two.  

“Hey, I was only 6 over par on that hole! Whoop! Whoop! Is that still a bogey?”

“No, Marianne,” Bob groaned leaning on his club. “There’s no term for being 6 over par other than being 6 over par. And, can you keep it down with the whoop, whoops? This is golf…not beer pong.” 

“But, I’m having so much fun.  Geez, not like those guys behind us. They look miserable. Hey, guys! Watch me birdie this next shot!” I yelled at them and waved.  They just sat in their carts and stared.

 “What’s their problem?” I asked Bob.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe they’d like you to take less than 30 minutes to finish a hole so they can get back to the clubhouse before the next presidential election.”  

Bob didn’t seem to be having as much fun as I was but I wasn’t going to let that ruin how much I was enjoying his birthday present.

Four hours later we finished the ninth hole. I was exhausted but exhilarated. I shouted one more “Whoop, whoop!” and did a final "Dab" to celebrate. I was now a golfer and could officially move to Florida. 

“So, Bob-alu, how’d you like your birthday present?”

“It was a very sweet idea. Torturous…but sweet.”

“Oh, come on. By the time we move to Sarasota, I’ll be much better, I promise.”

“I’m sure you will. But, I won’t be golfing with you.”  He sighed when he saw my disappointment and then said, “Marianne, I love you and you know that. But, I have to tell you the truth.  You’re too LOUD for golf.”

The carts with the foursome who were behind us rolled by overhearing Bob.

They looked right at me with their first smile of the day and together said, “Yes. Yes, she is.” Then they let out a loud “Whoop! Whoop!” One of them even did the "Dab." 

Mah Jong at the deli it is. Pass the pastrami.


  1. Florida?? Noooooooo. But this was hysterical!

    1. Ha! We're considering Sarasota. We can't afford LA anymore...such a bummer. But, we'll be right be the Gulf of Mexico beaches!!
      Miss you, Missy. Thanks for the feedback. xxx

  2. Hahaha! Thanks for making me laugh today! Good luck in Florida.. We like to go to Bonita Springs..

    1. Our move there is not imminent, but it is on our radar. That is after Hurricane Michael passes through..OY

  3. I am retiring soon too but my hair cannot handle Florida weather so I won't be moving there. I really hate humidity! Wish you the best of luck with your move to Florida!

    1. HA! Love the hair comment! My just gets flat. But, I'll trade that for the beach & no winter! THANKS for reading the blog. BTW, who is this?

  4. Marianne, this was really funny. I could picture the whole scene and I'm still laughing as I write this. If there is one thing I've learned this summer with all the heat is that Florida's out. I'm pretty sure I'm a cold weather person. Of course, my husband is rolling his eyes as he is definitely not a cold weather person.

    1. Joyce, we do need to think this out more before we take the plunge. I love beach weather but I'm not big on sweltering! I grew up nearnChesapeake Bay & 2 hours from MD/DE ocean towns. But that means the beach is hours not minutes away. We have much to figure out... THANKS so much for your response to the blog. Means a lot...

  5. One word: Pickleball. No, get your mind out of the gutter! Google it.

  6. Hilarious. And so much like my life now. I took golf lessons 2 years ago, since my knees and ankles kept saying NO, NO, NO to tennis. I can only play 9 holes at a time, with a cart, and I need a massage with lots of Advil after, but I do my own version of Whoop Whoop and I have many 6 over bogies that I am proud of. You go girl. But not to Sarasota. The traffic, especially in season, will make you nuts!