Impulse Power, Miss Ethel

Everybody knows that impulse buying is a bad thing.

Unless, of course, it’s a crtimson-and-houndstooth golf bag.

We saw this bag at the pro shop at El Conquistador Golf Club in Tucson, and Ethel just bought it. She wouldn’t even discuss it. And then she gave it to ME, which makes me the guilty party in the impulse-buying transaction : )

I gotta tell you – I am not sure that I was supposed to show you folks this picture.

It has taken a ridiculous amount of time for me to get the picture posted, like this. It seems that WordPress has it’s own *&^%$ ideas about pictures. This photo was taken as a horizontal photo, but  rotated it in Paint on my laptop before uploading it to WordPress.

WordPress didn’t care. It made it horizontal anyway.

So I loaded it back into Paint and rotated it again, and saved it with a different name, and uploaded it again. And WordPress said “No, I don’t care. That’s a horizontal photo, and you will not be allowed to upload it any other way”.

So I loaded WordPress’s photo editor. It would let me rotate it, but it seems that, once you edit a photo in WordPress, you have to press sixteen or seventeen different buttons as you back out in order to get the photo saved into the post. You have to “Save All Changes” and “Update” and then you have to select the photo from a list and  then Insert Into Post.

I am beginning to believe that WordPress has a very advanced business plan – they allow you to use the “FREE BLOGGING!!” product, and then they degrade the service and make things more and more difficult until you buy the Pro Package. Everywhere I look in this environment, there are “Upgrade to Pro!” buttons. I am wondering if, before long, those won’t be the only things on the page that actually work.

Well, it won’t work. I will not be bullied. In the blogging editor world, think of me as like a Louis L’Amour character – I won’t be pushed, and I won’t run! I’ll stand here, lantern-eyed and steely-jawed; maybe I won’t even be able to type anything, but I’ll be not-typing on my own terms.

ANYWAY – back to the golf bag. Yes, I now have the prettiest golf bag I ever imagined, and it’s stupidly expensive. I’m sure that it would have been reasonable had we waited and bought it online, but perhaps it was the act of impulse-buying it during our anniversary golf trip that makes it more special.

Maybe : )

The problem is, it’s getting more expensive to play golf now that the season has changed. Greens fees in Phoenix have skyrocketed; of course, we have free golf at our club in Durango, but Ethel won’t go to Durango. I do not know why. It’s fall up there, and the aspen have turned.

I have to admit; I’m starting to really wonder about this. We can live ANYWHERE. But Ethel won’t do it. She just sits there, while we grow older and older, sitting here in Phoenix. It’s the kind of thing that somebody who already knows what it’s like to regret something (that would be, well, ME) would go to any lengths to avoid; before long, I’ll be eighty years old, sitting here in the middle of the desert gumming my tongue and wondering why I didn’t go ahead and live life to its fullest.

So now I’m sitting here in the desert, grinding my teeth because I know I am right now living through the years that I will be sitting in the desert looking back on while I’m gumming my tongue wondering what happened. And Ethel just stares off into space like Les Miles chewing Bermuda/Fescue.

There’s a feeling of helpless frustration there that is difficult to describe. To do something, knowing that I’ll be regretting it later, has to be one of the most aggravating things that a person can do. And knowing that I can’t do anything about the not doing anything, and won’t be able to do anything about the regretting, just makes me crazy.

And I can’t even do anything about it making me crazy. – that makes me crazier.

There has to be an end to this cycle, and of course there is – it’s called “bedtime” ; )

2 comments
  1. runabq said:

    Nice bag. How many strokes did it take off your game?

  2. None. But I almost got a stroke when I saw the price in the credit-card bill.

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