"TOUGH GAME THIS GOLF"

I made that saying up. I don't know why or how it began, but when I hit a bad shot, that's what I say. I guess I could say a lot worse, and I do hit more than my share of bad shots. So I'm sure my regular playing partners are growing tired of hearing it.

This red tile roof with a couple of golf balls sticking to the troughs could be my house, but it's not. As I look across at my neighbor's, Colonel Pryor's, I see almost the same picture minus one golf ball.

You see we live on a golf course and receive wayward golf balls whose targets were not our houses. In the three years we've lived in our current abode, we have encountered four broken windows and one broken skylight. And have accumulated hundreds of golf balls. I have them organized by brand and condition. I even have separate boxes or compartments for logo balls that are unique. And no, I don't buy golf balls. Ever.

I now have enough golf balls that I'm glad when I don't any in the yard. Because the more I find in our front or back yards, the greater chance of a ball finding a window in the front or back of our house.