The Ibuprofen Golf Invitational Classic

DaBlade and the Chattering Teeth staff (comprised characters from my multiple personality disorders) return after a weekend of golf at and around the beautiful Otsego Club and Resort in northern Michigan. Friday was spent chasing the white dimpled-ball around Wilderness Valley and Black Forest. Saturday morning, after everyone popped their favorite brand of Ibuprofin (hey, we're getting old) it was 18 holes at the Gaylord Country Club.

Outing organizer and older brother Snapper wisely traded in the traditional Saturday afternoon round of torture golf for pizza, college football and favorite brands of liquid pain relievers at the Logmark Bar and Grant Grille.

That's an inside joke, but hopefully the contingent of 20-something youngerlings in the group now understand that if you (hypothetically speaking) hurl over the balcony after a tequilla shot, you will be named after that act and brutally teased until someone else takes your title and your place at the balcony... Up Chuck and Ralph held the title the longest so far.

Sunday morning found us teeing off on the Tribute. After the round, we gathered a final time to distribute the prize monies in the clubhouse cabana. Playing the legendary "19th hole", we watched in shock and awe as the Detroit Lions beat up on the Washington Redskins and ended the second-longest losing streak in NFL history at 19 games.

Hmmmm. 19:
Abraham Lincoln, the sixteenth president. Thomas Jefferson, the third president, and 16 and three make 19 again. What is so deep about this number 19? Why are we standing on the Capitol steps today? That number 19 -- when you have a nine you have a womb that is pregnant. And when you have a one standing by the nine, it means that there's something secret that has to be unfolded.

Much like when I sequester myself to the kitchen pantry/panic room for the weekend, I have no clue what is going on in the world of politics.

So in conclusion, I spent my Sunday in much the same fashion and state of mind as Obama.