Beanbags

It's that time of summer - my little town has its weekend of play and celebration. In the past I've always just gone to the parade on Sunday. This Babycub volunteered to work a couple of the Saturday events for her volleyball team. One of them was yesterday's "bean bag toss".

I figured it would be something for wee kiddies, so I grabbed the wee baby granddaughter to take with me. Nope, nada, I was wrong.

Who knew that in my small town the beanbag toss would be so popular among the adult world? They set it up on the street (blocked off) in front of our local bar. The volleyball girls keep track of the score sheets while the local peeps pay $10 each turn to try to get the most points. The winning team of two claims $100 at the end of the evening.

I marveled at this thingy as people brought lawn chairs to sit along the street so they could sip beer while watching each other toss beanbags at targets. It really was pretty damn quaint. At first I laughed to myself, but then it occurred to me - I'm damn glad I live in such a small, safe little world. How awesome that in this era of war, terrorism, and dirty bombs that my people still get a kick out of being together and tossing beanbags.

Yup, I'm glad I moved here.

On an entirely different note we have a problem with the wee girl grandbaby. She speaks now and her word for "frog" sounds far more like "fuck". It's a little disconcerting to have such an innocent sweet voice asking for a "greek fuck". Ha!

Peace