...the fog-lickers...

We're the mid-June motley crew, the daughters of business-networking golf-clubbing fathers. The girls in tank tops and bermuda shorts, sometimes flip-flops, sometimes sneakers (not real sneakers, fashion sneakers; sometimes Lacoste, sometimes not). We may not know how to play golf, but still came to the club this afternoon, and anyways we worked on our swings, and anyways it was Daddy's day.

I took one bucket to the range, and learned the basics. I like to think I wasn't half bad, though my follow-through needs work. A few times, hit just short of 100.

I also like to think I'll do this again sooner (a less sporadic golfer), and not wait until next Father's Day.