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'It was a rough day, hence the beer'
'It was a rough day, hence the beer'

Yahoo

timean hour ago

  • Sport
  • Yahoo

'It was a rough day, hence the beer'

Open champion Xander Schauffele popped into a local Portrush bar on Monday after a "rough" nine holes on the links. It was all pre-planned for a promotional event, of course, but that didn't stop the American sampling a pint. "It was a rough day at work, hence the beer," he smiled as he let his guard down a little. Advertisement We learned Xander "used to wait for the rain to come in San Diego to go out and practice in it" because it rarely rained when he was growing up in the Californian city. He's "happy" to have his Olympic gold medal but is a "traditionalist" and didn't think golf should have been in the Games. He also revealed: "Every year my friends would bet on me for the majors, to win. I'm like, why… winning is tough. The PGA at Valhalla (which was his first major title, in 2024) was the first time the entire group stopped betting on me. "They had been betting on me for six years straight years and that's when they stopped. I told them, you guys are never allowed to bet on me again."

Your Daily TeenScope for July 15, 2025
Your Daily TeenScope for July 15, 2025

Yahoo

timea day ago

  • Entertainment
  • Yahoo

Your Daily TeenScope for July 15, 2025

Let's face it—most 'teen' horoscopes are written by folks whose ages haven't ended with '-teen' since 2002 and are subsequently pretty cringe. We can't guarantee that our daily horo will never be cringe, but we can guarantee that it'll at least be useful. You're more ambitious than most of your friends -- though your ambitions might not be of the president/astronaut variety! All it means is that you know what you want, which does indeed give you a huge advantage You're feeling kind of out of it right now, but not so much that you can't stand up for what you think is right! When people get too crazy or mean or out of control, put your foot down firmly. Sometimes -- like today -- you get all worked up over big ideas that don't seem to mean as much to your friends. That's okay, as long as you keep everything in perspective and slow down now and then. Be careful about friends and anyone else you want to do stuff with today -- arguments are about nine times likelier to break out, even over the stupidest stuff you'd ever imagine! Someone with just as big a personality as yours (it's possible) gets up in your face and tries to start something. It's totally up to you whether you want to mix it up or let them walk away this time. Make sure you're on the right path! Your Personalized Career Horoscope is waiting with answers for you. Don't freak out when your schedule changes today -- it should be for the better! In fact, you may decide to change the way you go about your daily business for good as a result of this. You and your sweetie -- if you're attached -- are happier than ever, and things should be lovely between you. If you're single, your social energy is just right to ask someone out or at least attract their attention. Someone is pitching a fit around the house, and you want no part of it. You might not be able to shut your door this time, though, so see what you can do to bring back a sense of harmony. Is there some random hottie that occupies a bit too much of your mind these days? Now is the perfect time to step up and say hello without any introduction. You have the right energy for it. You have big issues on your mind, not all of which you can do much about -- but that doesn't mean you can't think about them all day! It's a good time for you to get more info from those in the know. You're feeling pretty great still, so you can pretty easily get others to see the right way to do things. It's a good time to push for little changes -- or maybe one big one -- that you want to see happen! Try not to read too much into them, but your dreams are kind of important today. On the other hand, they are also mostly inexplicable -- the odds are quite good that you won't be able to figure them out for a while! Are you compatible? Reveal your Compatibility Score now!

‘How are you holding up?': I don't know if I have the words to describe how I am
‘How are you holding up?': I don't know if I have the words to describe how I am

Irish Times

timea day ago

  • General
  • Irish Times

‘How are you holding up?': I don't know if I have the words to describe how I am

There is a question I have not been able to properly answer since my wife Tracy passed away last year in August. And it is the one asked most often. 'How are you holding up?' Most of the time, this is asked out of genuine concern. Family, friends, church members, hospital staff who have become a sort of family over the years. People who would actually be willing to take the time to listen to the answer, and would care what I have to say. [ Death and grief in the digital age Opens in new window ] Obviously not everyone falls into that category. There are some who do not really want an answer; they are simply asking as a sort of polite obligation, a social custom that must be observed before we can get down to more pressing matters. Something like a handshake. READ MORE But for the people who do care, and for those who have shown their love for me in a thousand ways over this past year, I often find myself wishing I could offer more than my usual response. 'I'm okay. Thanks for asking.' Tracy Keogh passed away last year in August So why do I not say more? Well, it is partly because I do not want to hear what people might say to me if I do. And I know that is probably unfair to those closest to me, but I was burned early on by 'advice' from individuals who had no experience with grief, yet somehow were experts in the field. Experts who traded mainly in clichés. 'It's going to take time.' Well, maybe. But that doesn't change how I'm feeling now. 'You need to get out of the house.' Okay, and then what? Go and do something without my best friend? Try to enjoy myself without her? Do you have any idea what you're saying? And another word of 'wisdom' I have heard more times than I can remember: 'Grief comes in waves'. But if they knew anything about grief, they'd know it doesn't just come in waves. It comes in tsunamis. Great, big catastrophic tsunamis that can wipe you out without warning. [ How I coped when grief became my new reality Opens in new window ] [ Seán Moncrieff: Funeral sandwiches are part of the Irish grieving process Opens in new window ] This was the kind of thing I was hearing in those early days, and it always made me feel like my sorrow was being casually invalidated. And so I shut down completely, isolated myself, hid away for fear I would hear some awful advice. And in fear of how I might respond, if I did. That's one reason I tend to keep my answers short now. Why I don't say how I really am. But mostly, it is because I don't know if I can. I don't know if I have the words to describe how I am. Certainly not in conversation, where I struggle to express myself even half-coherently at the best of times. When it comes to talking, some vital transmitters in my brain refuse to show up for work. Can I do it in writing? I don't know. Not in any way that will do more than scratch the surface. But maybe that's better than nothing. Tracy spent her last few weeks in Milford hospice, Limerick So, how am I holding up? I'm a little better than I was. Keeping busy helps – another of those dreadful clichés, though it turns out there is a grain of truth in it. And there are days when I feel I can see the faintest glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. Though I say that cautiously, because I felt the same thing a few months ago, only to be knocked out all of a sudden by a sucker punch of grief that hit me almost as hard as the initial loss. As I said, it comes in tsunamis. But some days are okay. And then there are days when the weight of Tracy's absence is crushing. When I come home and she's not here. When I make dinner for one. When she's missing from family occasions. When friends invite me to do things and I realise I'll be going alone. And even when I'm driving and she's not there beside me, telling me what I'm doing wrong. On those days, I feel utterly lost. And sometimes horribly guilty that I'm going places and doing things without her, making plans that she can't be part of and betraying her, somehow, by continuing to live. This guilt can be unbearable, and it's been the most unexpected of all the turbulent emotions I've experienced. I still cry most days, often out of the blue. A word can set me off. A picture, a memory, a song she used to love. Carolina in My Mind by James Taylor maybe, a song she used to play when she felt homesick. I still put her picture at her end of the table when I eat. And when I'm finished I wipe her end of the table too, and ask her how in the name of God she managed to make such a mess. I still sometimes send myself texts from her phone, so that when I pick up my phone later, just for a second my heart will skip when I see her name. I don't wash her clothes any more, but I did for a while, like I used to do when she wasn't able for it. Just to feel like I was still taking care of her, like maybe when I finished putting the clothes away she'd be waiting in the living room for her cup of tea. [ Grief constantly takes on different shapes and forms. It is never quite what you expect Opens in new window ] But I do still feel the strong urge to take the exit for Milford hospice every day that I'm on the motorway in and out of Limerick , just to somehow feel close to her. It is where she spent her last few weeks, where we last had time together, last laughed together, had our last midnight snack, and where we had our last dance. It is where I last held her hand. It is also where we last talked. This is what I want to do more than anything. Just talk to her. Tell her the news. Hear what she has been up to and hear the latest scandal. Chat about the kids and the grandkids. Hear her laugh when I tell her something funny, or something stupid somebody said. Not being able to talk to her is the hardest thing of all. In truth, Tracy is the only one I want to talk to about everything that's happened since she died. About the funeral, about how much she was loved, about the oceans of tears that have been shed. About how empty life is without her and how pointless it feels now that she's not here. I could tell her how I really am. How I'm holding up. But in her absence, at least for now, I'll probably stick to my standard response. 'I'm okay. Thanks for asking.'

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