Golf, Life & the Quest for Great Chicken Marsala
A Weed by Any Other Name… As I type this, within my line of sight is a heart-shaped glass container full of dried flowers. At first glance they’re not that remarkable, time has rendered them mostly brown, the type now unrecognizable. Not roses, tulips or daffodils. These were free, yet you couldn’t pay me to…
Yes, that means you (and me)! I’m always finding ways that golf is analogous to life. My poor friends and family, “Ugh, another, golf reference?” So this column is as much life as golf. But, hey, for me there’s pretty much a blurry line at best between the two! So, dear reader, as you’re a friend…
AKA, one duffer’s quest to lose golf balls… Ironically, perhaps, the idea for this column was borne of a truly horrific nine-hole jaunt at the local muni. I say “jaunt” as calling it a round would be an insult to the game. Even funnier (or sadder depending on your approach) was the fact this was…
Christmas in The Duffer Zone found this really cool putting trainer under the tree! Now, it’s well known that the Switzman is fine freezing his butt off to grind all winter long. But, alas, when all the local tracks are closed it’s time to see how the living room breaks in comparison to the hallway!…
Yeah, sounds dramatic, I get it… Let’s go back to 2012 and the start of a hellish trip into separation and eventual divorce. A four year circus needlessly extended by an over-zealous attorney who spent 16 months of discovery to “discover” the deal my ex and I had already agreed to (without his brilliant legal…