Pertaining to Shane's golf hoopla last Wednesday, I was advised by Shane's cohort and dear friend, who is a big fan of Kitchenville, to apologize and retract my terse tangent. Shane passed the exam, henceforth, I was counseled that playtime contributed as a remedy to the problem.
Here goes nothing. Gulp. Sweat. I, Shellie Kitchen, would like to express my deepest apology for my authoritative, immature, and irrational demeanor. In fact, golf may have, perhaps, wheeled Shane's mind to ease. I was only looking out for Shane's best interest. So I flip out once in a while. I am human. A female, at that. I can't help it. I have to allow estrogen to run it's course before the humdrum of normal sets in.
Props out to my homey Kurt Grundman a.k.a. Sensei Gunman for holding up a mirror to the situation.
Lesson: A humble grasshopper is one that can eat his bowl of mistakes free of pride and judgement.
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