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As keeper of the flame for http://www.golftodaymagazine.com I get regular reports on the popularity of our writers and the articles we publish. Near the top almost every month is Leith Anderson's look at equipment, Equipment Chronicles.

He explores the ways to fine tune what you're already using, to squeeze out that last bit of control, to push the ball out that much farther. If you want to get shafted, Leigh's the guy to do it. (He's always examining the various shaft/head combinations in depth.)

Now he's introducing a new idea, a free e-mail newsletter for members. The first issue has an invitation to come out and play 9 holes with Leith at Palo Alto (Calif.) Muni, free stuff, and much more.

Contact Information

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email: leith@calgolftech.com

phone: (650) 493-1770

web: http://www.calgolftech.com

I wish the Bay Area weren't so far away from where I am at present, or I'd take him up on it. The bad thing about this eye is, I can't drive for far without becoming exhausted. Perhaps it's trying to clear up the double vision, but I get tired easily.

So the thought of driving 2,000 miles is insurmountable. Soon, though. Real soon now. (I hope.)

The Case of the Disappearing Money

After all that's happened to me lately? This is the icing on the cake.

I needed to send off a payment for auto insurance, so to make sure I had the funds, I took out a Visa loan from my Minnesota credit union for $500, kept $20, and put the remaining cash into my credit union's ATM to send to my Calif. credit union. (There are laws about their accepting money inside unless they're affiliated, I guess.)$480, right?

They are now claiming they only got $280. I've been raising cain, but they just give me this runaround. The one here that got the envelope says they have two teller's signatures, and there was only $280. So I wonder where it went?

Could I have not sealed the envelope? I remember licking the envelope. Could the teller that gave me the cash pulled a short-change on me? I remember fanning out the bills to be sure.

So, it appears as if I'll be changing credit unions shortly. After all, I don't need a California one if I'm working in Minnesota.

But, boy am I mad.

The moral of the story is, don't put cash into an ATM. My credit union here will give me a free cashier's check every day, and that's what I'm depositing from now on.

Ah, well, life's too important to be taken seriously.

7_19_05 The credit union has searched high and low, looked at tapes, etc., and decided that rather than waste any more time on it, they'll return the $200. After all, I've been a customer of theirs for more than 30 years, and never had a problem, so....

Home on the Range!

After an eye scare Friday, and clarification Saturday, I hit the driving range for the first time since my Ramsay Hunt attack in late April.

Friday I was driving home near the VA hospital, and my eye started feeling very scratchy. My left eye started to water, so my right eye began to as well. (They're in the same union.)

"Don't be Mr. Macho," I had been admonished. "If it hurts, go see the doctors during the week, while they're open."

Of course, I had waited too long: the eye clinic closed at noon. So I hied to the Urgent Care room, and sat for three hours. The M.D. on call--who had been one of the people who saw me in the ward when I was there--remembered me. "Oh, you had such a bad case of Ramsay Hunt," she said in her lilting Indian accent.

"I was Exhibit A in a lot of white-coated Show and Tell, that's for sure," I said.

Her diagnosis was, something bad was going on in my eye, but come in the next morning to see the eye doctor.

Next morning the eye doctor took a gander. "Not much wrong," she said, contradicting the Urgent Care doctor. She proceeded to rout out my eyelids with a cotton swab to get built-up mucus and grit out, turning them a bright red.

"Don't wear the patch too much," she admonished, "because it breeds bacteria."

"What about the Speedo swim goggles I've been using?"

"Same problem," she responded. "If you want to wash your eyelids to get rid of summer sweat and dust, use a q-tip with baby shampoo." Of course, no tears. Why hadn't I thought of that? For that matter, why hadn't they told me earlier? (The leftover soap also cleaned the oil off my nose, making the Breath-Rite stick all night.)

I drove home, much relieved.

On to Golf

So, when my pal telephoned and asked if I wanted to go to the driving range, I leaped at the chance.

It felt good to be out in the warm afternoon air, splitting a bucket.

I only took three clubs, and I sincerely tried to slow everything down. I have a tendency to sway a lot, so one pro suggested I stand with all my weight on my left foot, and just my right toe on the ground.

One-eyed, one-legged...there was a song about that, wasn't there?

Actually, I made pretty good contact much of the time. My shots weren't straight, but they were out there a ways. And when I remembered to tuck my right elbow in...I hit what I was aiming at. At least that time.