Here's looking at ewe, kid
Monday, May 6, 2019 at 11:44PM
Jennifer

Hey.

I'd apologize for having been MIA for so long, but love means never having to say you're sorry.

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At least that's what I've heard. And I do love you.

Either way, I'm here now after a most busy and distracted/distracting two weeks.

Last week was consumed with preparing for, and going on, a golf trip to Nashville.

No; I do not play golf. But TG does, and he has been participating in this friends-only tournament for three years.

It's guys from "back in the day" when we lived in the Chicagoland area. Most of the fellows were students of TG's and also on the team during the fifteen years he coached basketball.

One of the men at the tournament stood as a groomsman for TG in our wedding forty years ago.

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Another of the group -- one of the founding members of the event -- passed away on April 11th, at the age of 58. The tournament has officially been re-named a memorial, in his honor.

So it was good to see everyone.

And in case you're wondering -- yes! I was the only wife who attended. The guys took it really well.

Our group stayed in the cottages at Hermitage Golf Course -- two bedrooms per cottage, each with en suite bath, plus a spacious living area with kitchenette, and a rocking-chair-equipped screened porch overlooking the links.

We shared our cottage with two gentlemen I've known since they were teenagers -- actually I am only five years older than them, but that's a lot when you're a teenager -- but nobody was uncomfortable, because of the privacy afforded by the separate bedrooms with their own baths.

Also because the guys hit the links every morning by eight o'clock, and as a rule I don't get up before eight o'clock.

(Dagny, who will be starting school in August, will have to get used to rising early. School starts at eight o'clock, you know, her mother told her. I'm scared of eight o'clock, Dagny replied.)

Yeah. Me too.

Speaking of which, this very morning -- due to recent circumstances, my first day to really rest with no pressure to get up and do anything at all in well over a week -- our neighbor whose house and yard is directly across the street, had contracted with a tree service to have a tree taken down.

Our bedroom is at the front of the house.

Wait for it.

At PRECISELY eight o'clock this morning, they fired up the chain saws and the wood chipper. Logs began thumping to the ground amidst much shouting and truly incredibly loud machinery noise.

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These days I am awake for a couple of hours around dawn. Why don't you just go ahead and get up if you're awake, you may be thinking -- or even asking out loud.

Because I don't want to. I want to wait and see if I can go back to sleep. Let me handle this.

Usually, if I don't achieve a state of at least semi-consciousness by eight o'clock, I do get up. But this morning around eight, I was pleasantly drifting back out, towards dreamland. I was so tired.

And then the tree-cutting noise began.

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It sounded as though that wood chipper was in the room with me. What am I saying? It sounded like it was in my ear.

Yes; it was frustrating. The struggle is frighteningly real.

A long coffee hour was required to get me in condition to take Rizzo for his walk.

Anyhow.

I wanted to tell you about the sheep at Hermitage Golf Course in Nashville.

There are forty of them -- Scottish Black Face is their breed -- and they roam the gorgeous golf course at will, grazing and hanging out.

Here's a beautiful two-minute video that shows how impressive they are:

The cottages are decorated throughout with the sheep motif. There are sheep throw pillows on the beds. A large sheep graphic adorns the wall in the living area.

The tee areas are marked with metal sheep. You can buy a sheep driver cover in the pro shop.

On the first day we were there, TG arranged with the staff of said pro shop to grant me the use of a golf cart so that I could go in search of the sheep. To take their picture and make their acquaintance.

It took me forty minutes to find the forty sheep, but find them I did.

And it was worth the wait. They were wonderful. Newly shorn, but still cute as little buttons.

There were several who looked to be just about to drop little lambies -- in fact, on the last day the gentlemen played, on the tenth tee they heard a plaintive baaaa and looked to see that one heavily expecting ewe had been quarantined in a pen by herself. To wait.

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The next day, when I was driving a cart around to take pictures of our guys golfing, I saw the geese and goslings.

Speaking of mamas and babies -- and waiting -- our Brittany is expecting.

Maybe you'd already figured that out.

We will have a new little baby in early December. A Christmas gift.

Such happiness, I cannot tell you. Andrew is ecstatic and Brittany is glowing.

They've already bought their baby a tiny sleeper to wear, in a neutral color because they don't yet know the gender.

With that I wish you a joyous Mother's Day and, leading up to Sunday, a pleasant and productive week.

On Tuesday morning, if the neighbor's trees have been granted one more day to live, I plan to sleep late.

Even if that means only until eight fifteen. 

And that is all for now.

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Happy Tuesday

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