Golf and therapy...lessons and sessions.
Some you know this...others could care less (of course the 'others' don't read this blog). I had a lesson with my golf instructor, Woody, today. I usually have these lessons once a week. Last week I had a water-heater issue at the house so I needed to cancel my early morning 9-holes-on-the-golf-course-at 7am. That lesson goes about 2 hours. I call them lessons. I should really call them sessions. I don't know how much a 'real therapist' charges but I imagine it's a lot more than what I pay Woody! While I'm trying to work on my swing (start taking the club back and bend my left wrist as soon as I move my arms, in order to re-route my back swing and loop it like a Jim Furyk copycat (and good luck with that happening), we start talking about his ((Woody's, not Jim Furyk's)) bathroom remodel, and E&E&C (((Evan, Erin, Cadel))) who came by my place for a couple of days and then headed back to San Diego. Argh! I think I need Nana lessons