Unlike politics, a new low is a good thing in golf. I went out this morning and shot an 80 (yes, it was 18 holes) for my lowest score of the summer. The course, Hartland Glen, isn’t the most difficult thing in the world (117 slope), but it still counts.

I’m still suffering from a major loss of distance, but my short game has really picked up. I had a good shot at par on most holes, even after having to chip or pitch on.

This Memorial Day, lets take time out from the cookouts and golf to remember those who gave their lives so that we can have cookouts and golf in relative freedom and security.

Having come in recently with rounds of 79 and 84, I was ready yesterday for more evidence that finally had solved the issues that plagued my swing all this year. Instead, I got a lesson in “almosts.” As in “almost cleared that bunker”; “almost got past that tree” and; “almost got it in the hole.” On the first hole, I “almost” hit it on the screws. The ball took off like a rocket and straight as an arrow, but at a fifteen degree angle from where I was aiming. That put me off the fairway, where I “almost” had a line of sight to the hole. A tree on my line forced me to chip out. On the second, with a three wood from 210 —trying to reach the green in two on a par 5—I “almost” cleared the top of a fairway bunker. On the third, I “almost” plopped in for a hole-in-one. On the fourth, I “almost” got it in for a par putt; instead the putt circled the hole and traveled another two feet.

And so it went. In the end, I limped in with a 44 on the nine. Considering the number of “almosts,” I actually was playing pretty well. But it brings home the lesson—and the cliche—that golf is a game of inches. And on that day, I was just an inch short.

I’m not sure it really mattered though. It was November 15, and I was playing in a sweatshirt.

Nothing to do with golf, but I thought it cool.

I got back to Maryland this last week for a WVU alumni college reunion and feasted on crabs. I’m pretty sure these are the first Maryland Blue Crabs I’ve had since arriving in Michigan eighteen years ago.

Blue Crabs boiled in a pot are the food of the Gods.

I don’t usually take my frustrations public, but sometimes “customer service” at the megafirms just drive me over the top. The latest in question is Sears. I was in the market for a new LCD TV and decided to see what Sears had to offer. I did a search and came up with the product below:

That was a good price, so I added it to my cart and went to checkout. It was then I discovered that Sears had pulled the bait-and-switch and increased the price to $386.99.

So I called “customer service.” The pleasantly stupid girl on the other end insisted that the price was $386.99 and that the problem was my computer wasn’t showing the price properly.

Huh??? Apparently she doesn’t have a clue about how the interwebs work.

I insisted that it was their site that was showing an incorrect number. She didn’t understand what I was talking about and so referred me to a supervisor. The supervisor then told me that Sears doesn’t honor the prices it shows on the website—only those that show up in the cart. Further, she explained, it’s all laid out in the website user agreement.

So the bottom line: Sears doesn’t honor its own advertisements.

They’ve lost a customer. Not that they care.

Ah. To be a boy again ... uncluttered by life’s worries.

This is Thing Two on his way to the comic book store in downtown Ann Arbor.