Sunday, August 30, 2009


To the gods of the CornHole and Pass the Pigs World, I am truly sorry. I beg your forgiveness. I now know that I was in error in my previous post, stating that you were deplorable, bumpkin games. I'm sorry for the following reasons. Do you see the picture above? Can you imagine the evening I had playing croquet looking very similar to the posted picture? Could I ever be forgiven for wanting my children to wear white shorts and navy collared shirts and give up Corn Hole and Pass the Pigs in order to play the above mentioned game? Alas, no.

I was thrilled, when at a recent family gathering, someone pulled out the Croquet game. I had not played the game since I was 15 years old. That's a lot of years. That's 24 years ago, and in all that time, my memory had forgotten the game, the pace and the rules. Not to fear, we had the rule Nazis with me!
You must understand my family. We provide a vast array of fun for all, and last nite was my time spent with the Hiram and Wellsely graduates. Me, humble sport that I am, graduated from a mere state school, and some of my family does not hesitate to remind me of this, but with pride I hold my head high.
The process began with one person setting the wickets up with a tape measure, then eyeing their line up then resetting the wickets and remeasuring.Lawsy Mercy.
The next step came with my young niece arguing incessantly with a much older family member, who has played longer than my niece has been breathing air. First she argued that one can accumulate strokes during the turn. Secondly she argued that one can not "send" another's ball. After carrying on for several minutes, she then realized that she was recalling the "British" rules. Are you serious? British rules? Dear stars in heaven.

Next came the discussions of Civil War theories (yes, I bet you didn't realize there are "theories" about that war, stick with me kids, you learn you something.....that is after I learn me something first) and then came talks of research and professors who "don't know what they're talking about" in all of their 60 years of life. Schnikes. Whatev. All this while others were measuring just how far the ball did make it through the wicket and wondering if it should count when there was still 1/8 " remaining of the ball lying under the wire wicket.
And so it went...needless to say, I lost, and I came to the conclusion that my children can play Corn Hole just as much as they please.

1 comment:

  1. Wow. British rules, are u serious. Oh my. Sounds like I missed a good picnic. Hmm no wonder ur hubby skipped out.