I grew up on a golf course. Now, it's not what you think, we didn't belong to a country club, we actually lived on the golf course itself. My Dad had made a some terrible investments that year (Beta recorders where supposed to be here forever, and don't even ask me about the Delorean stock)The thin layer of nylon that was our tent was the only thing protecting a young Helena from rain, wind, and stray golf balls. FORE!

Little Helena learned at a young age that people would be lobbing balls at her the rest of her life, and it has been an all consuming effort to try to learn to balance dodging balls, and being careful not to spill my drink. Even at the tender age of ten, I knew the value of Patrone tequila and a recovered golf ball.
Patrone Tequila- $60.00
golf ball recovered from the swampy pit- $0.10
Not spilling your margarita while fighting off an alligator hell bent
on taking that retrieved ball- Priceless.

I can't smell fresh cut grass without feeling nostalgic about home. I also can't walk by a box of "titleist" balls without pissing myself, but that's due to a freak head injury involving a nine-iron and a caddy named "uri". That's a story for another day, kiddies.

I sit here today, and reflect on my up-bringing, but only because I want to share with you some interesting things I learned growing up. You tend to hear things when you live on a golf course (aside from the crisp whizzzz of a ball or the expletives of golfers missing a swing) and you learn to be still and quiet (mostly because a bitch will cut you if you talk during their back swing) and they will say more around you. Ask any former caddy (or as I call them, any CEO of any corporation in America) and they will tell you stories about how they were there for golf course "deals". Mergers, take-overs, friendly acquisitions, they've heard it all, and I mean all. People tend to say things when they are comfortable. I love to make people comfortable. I'm a people person.

So, why, you might be asking yourself, is Helena waxing golf-stalgic, when much more pressing matters are unfolding in the town that brought us port-a-potties for tourists and twenty dollar pancakes? Well, I'll tell you people, I've been quiet. I've been listening, and I've been learning. I've studied all of our elected officials, their body language, their reactions to people and things, and I've learned each one's tells. Most importantly, I'm watching how they interact with each other, and Helena has noticed a change.

You don't need to get whacked in the head with a golf ball to see how things are unraveling. First, let's dissect the meeting from Monday night, or as I call it, the Town Hall Show (cue the Dick Van Dyke music).

Vin Bernstein made his case against paying for coffee (see my last blog) and having taxpayers pay for it. Well, he goes on to say "Peter, you said last time we had this conversation that you would pay for it yourself, and I have yet to see that happen." OH SNAP! That is what my mom Pearlie would say. Oh Snap, indeed. Vin got some balls now. Titleist I think.

Then there was the matter of the insurance, Snoris thought they should take time to look it over. Saltpeter wanted to push it through. Snoris came close to stating her case again, but backed down, but this was a new move for her. Usually her and Tiny Tim blindly go where Saltpeter leads them. Even Tiny Tim kept questioning things (sometimes not too brightly, but questioning none the less). I see the thread fraying. I love it. I really really love it.

Now, I've also heard two rumors that I am going to verify before I report them to you involving our Stupervisor and one of his advisors. I have someone working on it right now, but prepare to be floored when you hear the news. I want to be sure it's true, NO RUMOR SPREADING HERE KIDDIES, only the truth! It won't take me long either, I'm in the circle of trust, muawwwww!

I want to dedicate this blog to my mom, Pearlie Basket, also known by her hyphenated name, Pearlie Gates-Basket. She taught me everything I know about espionage... and golf ball stew.

Until next time kiddies.

-Helena