For years I told Innocent Husband, an avid golfer, that I would golf with him when I retired.

That was deceptive.

I have no plans to retire from writing. I like daydreaming while slugging down coffee and translating daydreams into stories.

I told him that teeny, tiny marital lie because I didn’t want to golf.

For me, a person who is not very patient, trying to put a tiny white ball into a tiny hole in the ground from hundreds of yards away is my idea of mental mayhem and emotional chaos.

I pictured myself hurdling my club into the sky in frustration and accidentally hitting a sweet duck flying overhead.

I pictured myself as one of those crazy people who heaves their clubs into a pond and then stumbles in after them.

But then Innocent Husband, who so wants me to golf with him, broke the agreement about retirement/golfing.

He got a sweetheart of a deal on golf clubs, secretly signed me up for lessons with two of my girlfriends, and voila. I’m out on the driving range.

Susan and Debbie and I looked at each other in disbelief that first day. How did we get here? What the heck happened? They are also non-golfers and were tricked into this game by their husbands.

I was terrible. What was this stick thing I was gripping? Why did the ball go sailing off to the right instead of straight? I actually managed to hit one ball almost straight up into the air. Another three feet and I would have had a black eye or no nose.

Innocent Husband, delighted at my attempts, took me out on the golf course.  I swung and missed hitting that bad ball, sitting on the tee, mocking me, laughing at me, numerous times.

I sent one ball careening into someone’s backyard. I hit three trees, as if the trees were my enemy. I darn near smacked Innocent Husband with a golf ball and did not yell, “Fore!” because I didn’t know I was supposed to.

In addition, putting is a mystery. I seem to have to whack every ball as far as I can, as if speed is of the essence.

But a funny thing happened: I loved it.

Yes, I love golf. I don’t have the cute, spiffy golf clothes that women wear. I am wearing an old orange golf shirt of my husband’s and green shorts I’ve had for at least five years. So no cutesy skort for me with a matching collared shirt.

But I’ve learned something:  I really need to try more new things. I have been swamped with writing, raising kids, a house and garden, and a whole bunch of other stressful “life stuff” that unfortunately comes down the pike for all of us.

Which led me to this question, especially since I am now an empty-nester: What else should I try? What else would be interesting or entertaining or just flat out new?

What  hobbies or interests do you want to try? What adventures do you want to have? What countries or states do you want to visit?

I’m makin’ my list and checkin’ it twice.

Have a wonderful summer.