I don't know why it's called that...
There usually isn't a linked fence.
You don't buy sausage in links at the course.
Links doesn't really make a lot of sense to me.
But then again, neither does chasing a little white ball around the country side, while trying to get it into a little hole. Oh well, maybe some people don't know why I do the crazy things I do.
Anyway, here is our little Leo showing off his golf swing. I think his daddy is super excited to take him along when they "hit the links."
2 comments:
And Uncle Mike's a coach, at least this year! Who needs retirement? You got the PGA in your pocket!
And so it begins-----
g'ma Jan
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