In the Pink

　　I had several choices on Saturday. Clean the garage, wash the car or go to the golf store and waste hours looking at a bunch of stuff I couldn't afford.

　　It was crowded at the golf store. I like it when it's that way. The salespeople are too busy to pester you, and you can play with the putters all day long. I have won many imaginary tournaments on that little carpeted green.

　　I was heading to the front of the store to forage in the "experienced" golf ball jar when I saw three familiar kids-mine-coming in the front door. At first I assumed my wife sent them on a search party and that I'd have to clean the garage after all. Then I saw the sign over the checkout stand, "Ask About Our Father's Day Specials." They were here to buy me a gift! Not another Three Stooges tie. Not another Handy Mitt, the greatest car-washing aid since water, but a golf gift. Cool.