Lost and one club short....

What a wonderful last couple of days, weather-wise in the burgh. We don't get much sunny humidity free stuff here, so of course, we celebrate.

We play golf.

My son, and my friend Hilary (the only other person I know by that name) and I, headed out to Pittsburgh North for nine holes of beautiful barometric relaxation. We got everything but that.

Hilary got lost on the way out there.

Friends, can I just say this, GPS sucks, it's as incompetent as MapQuest.

Then, I realized I hadn't played this course for years and it seems they added another golf course...whoa.

We couldn't find the first tee, seems you need to hike Mount Everest first and then back track to the red tees..

Hilary (Sir Edmund, after the last climb) was on her way to major multiple birdie action and I was looking around thinking this place sure has changed, where's our sherpa, hmmm...

Anyway, somewhere between holes five and six, we got lost on the course!

This has never happened to Invisi-Gal no matter who the martinis....

Remember, I said there are now 2 courses there, well we couldn't tell which was which and the scorecards they give you only has par stats on it and no map of the holes.

We ended up on the 11th hole.

My son starts to doubt his mother's intra-uterine GPS, and becomes embarrassed as only an 11 year old can. He pulls his brand new black Titleist hat way down over his forehead and tries to pretend he's not with us.

We decide the best course of action would be is to head to the clubhouse and confess our idiocy, get directions to hole 7 , quietly and with honor. Yeah , right.

"Can someone get these people back to hole 7, they got LOST ON THE COURSE!" yells the woman at the desk which is in earshot of the lounge...

We were escorted back to hole 7 by a darling 80year old gent in a cart. There were 3 of us plus our pull carts.

It took two trips.

While everyone watched.

People were coming out of the lounge and club house to get a look at the people who got lost on the course.

Then , somewhere around hole 8, I realize I left my TaylorMade sandwedge on a hole.

For the uninitiated, TaylorMade clubs are expensive and perfect and omigod I can't believe I have left one behind....this has never happened to me before either.

Lost and one club short, a new term for lack of mental acuity.

I call the clubhouse, now all abuzz about the lost women and the young boy and ask if anyone has turned in a wedge. The frazzled women on the phone explaines the leagues have arrived, call back tomorrow....I don't think so.

We finish out the round, head back to the clubhouse where everyone knows our names, ages, and what music we like, how we get lost and lose clubs.... we are now legends.

Hilary takes the opportunity to jump in a cart with a dashing young man to "go look for my club", and within minutes a middle aged white man emerges from the lounge (by the way ladies, that's where all middle aged white men are) and announces he has my my club and was ready to ..ha, ha..put it on Ebay.

Our 80 year old tour giude askes us if we cause this much commotion everywhere,

I didn't skip a beat when I replied, "Why yes we do, and, we do it for attention.".

I was so not an Invisi-Gal, of course I would rather had the attention for something great like curing cancer or being the one who cancelled CSI Miami.

But for a brief moment, Invisi-Gal shed her shield of invisibilty and announced, "I am here, I'm not sure exactly where I am but I am here...."

....