Dad and Daughter Together in the Cornhole Tournament

We had a lot to figure out as we prepared for battle. The Oppressed, who is still growing, needed to figure out the proper “oomph” to give her beanbag tosses .

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The Oppressed thought it would be a great idea if she and I played in a cornhole tournament together. The tournament was at the local YMCA. I play cornhole occasionally. If you play, you know how fun it can be. If you don’t play cornhole, you should.

There were plenty of other sights to take in that day. The Oppressed and I saw a raffle table, a food truck. There were five or six cornhole courts set up at the playing field. Every team, including us took turns to practice our skills. There were some practice matches before we kept score for real.

The Cornhole Tournament

If you don’t play cornhole, you should.

We had a lot to figure out as we prepared for battle. The Oppressed, who is still growing, needed to figure out the proper “oomph” to give her beanbag tosses. At first, the tosses didn’t reach the board. The arc was too high, then she adjusted her footwork. After tweaking the angle, she was able to hit the board.

Our target for the day.

Sometimes hitting the board was enough to score a point. Unfortunately, the boards were waxed and varnished. They did look pretty, but this prettiness presented another challenge for father and daughter alike. The beanbags would slide off the boards and on the ground. You only get points if your beanbag stays on the board for the entire round.

There was an occasional stroke of luck for us from time to time. Sometimes, we would get our beanbag in the hole. When this happened, the best our opponents could hope for was to get theirs in the hole on offset the points we had scored.

I talked about The Oppressed throwing the beanbags. My throws weren’t that much better. I made adjustments as best I could. A little more arc here. Aim over there. During the game, I tried to shout advice to my daughter from time to time. Unfortunately, our efforts and my advice didn’t do us much good. We lost the first game. We lost bad.

A look at the cornhole action.

I wasn’t too upset about it, neither was my daughter. It was a double-elimination tournament, and a little break in the action gave us time to discuss strategy for the next game. I liked our chances for the second game. Between the warm-up rounds and the first game, there was enough practicing and fine-tuning for us to redeem ourselves in the second game.

The Second Game

We were ready to go for the second game, and we got out to an early lead. This was good for us. It would give us a chance to stave off elimination. Plus, the extra games would give us a chance to improve our skills, which meant better throws and more points as the tournament continued.

The final score wasn’t pretty. That’s us on the left.

Our lead was short-lived, however and we fell behind. I wasn’t worried, though. I was confident we would catch up and retake the lead. We didn’t retake the lead.

Our team was eliminated in two games. It was pretty ugly. I don’t know if it was our technique or if it’s just been that long since I played a sport (Cornhole is a sport, right?), but we did not fare well at all at the YMCA Cornhole Tournament. We needed to assess our effort and future, if any with cornhole.

Lunch, and a Different Game

We commiserated over lunch at a local restaurant. The Oppressed chose where we would be eating. Coincidentally, it was where The Boy celebrated the end of his baseball season.

I like this place because it has Keno. I like to play Keno when I go out to eat. The Oppressed saw what I was doing, and when she saw that I needed to pick numbers, she immediately decided that I needed her help in choosing said numbers. She was very proud as she presented my slip to me with her specially chosen numbers.

Numbers were played. We watched the Keno screen as we waited for our food. We talked about our day at the cornhole tournament. When the food came, we ate and continued to watch the screen for our numbers. We got some of our money back. We didn’t get it all back, just some. The Oppressed wants to play Keno again. I’m not sure how I feel about her gambling so early.

Lunch and Soccer made my Friday fun and Exciting

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Well, I told you my Friday was exciting. Now you’re going to read about it.

What good shall I do this day?

Benjamin Franklin

Friday started like any other day for me. I said hello to Doggie and Kitty, got some coffee and got ready to face the day. I walked to the bus with Slugger and The Oppressed. When I got back home, The Boy was up beginning his day.

I took The Boy to school and again I returned home. I needed to eat a little breakfast, the most important meal of the day. The Gaggle emerged from their room. It was a big day for The Gaggle, as they were going to take the last part of their GED. The whole GED process itself has been an arduous one. I think we were both equally happy to see an end to this.

I spent the time reading while The Gaggle took their test. We made our way back to town when they finished. I needed to run an errand. The Gaggle wanted to go home and enjoy the fact that they didn’t need to study any more. I needed to go home and get things done at the house, but that had to wait.

Meeting People for Lunch

As I was driving home, my mother-in-law called. She was doing errands with her husband and her sister. They were going to lunch and asked if I would go with them. I accepted. Wife was working from home and couldn’t get away. Her day was filled with meetings. She asked if I would pick up something to-go for her. I would.

Photo by Joe L on Pexels.com

Lunch is spent filling in my in-laws and Wife’s aunt on life: school, sports, work, every part of the madness we face day in and day out. People ask me about The Boy’s soccer season. That’s going well. He seems to like it. Wife and I like that he’s out there expending energy. It means he can get tired faster and fall asleep earlier. When it comes to kids and quiet, Wife and I can use all the help we can get.

Lunch is over. I drive home to give Wife her food. No rest for the wicked, though. I need to be at the elementary school to get The Boy. The Boy has plans as he always does on Friday. Friday means rolling through the neighborhood and connecting with his friends. They aren’t able to play during the week. The burdens of homework and extra-curricular activities prevent that. I think petitions are being filed as you read this.

Soccer Practice, and Someone is Disappointed

Speaking of extra-curriculars, there’s a slight bump in The Boy’s schedule this afternoon. He has soccer practice. It was supposed to be earlier in the week, but Mother Nature had other plans with the rain. We’ve been getting quite the amount of rain lately. It would have been nice to have it during the summer when we were dealing with a drought, but I digress.

The Boy is most displeased with this development. Friday afternoons are for Manhunt and bike riding, not corner-kicks and throw-ins. The curtailed playtime is just another of a long list of grievances presented to me by all of my children. I take everything under advisement.

Photo by Markus Spiske on Pexels.com

The Boy goes to practice. The coaches, bless their hearts, do the best they can with the limited attention spans of the budding athletes. Time is spent on drills and a little strategy. I occasionally peek over my book to see how practice goes.

Practice ends. Parents walk up to the cluster of children to hear the coach’s words of wisdom and to see if there’s any word on the game. For some reason, times and locations of our games are always changing. The coach thinks the league is 90% certain of when and where we’ll be this weekend, and he hopes to be in touch with us that night.

Someone is Still Disappointed

I take The Boy home, and it’s time to eat. The Boy is not happy with me. We call The Boy “A Man About Town”. Friday means no homework. It means he doesn’t have to worry about what he’s doing the next day. Like all cherubs everywhere, The Boy spends his free time around the neighborhood collecting friends and having fun, celebrating their short-lived parole from school. Soccer practice cuts into that. He lets me know how disappointed he is in this change to his schedule.

I think I’m the only one looking forward to my son’s soccer game. ⚽️

I get home. I’m ready to rest a little from a busy week. The weekend has plenty of excitement in store for us, including a soccer game. I’m looking forward to watching my son play soccer. I think I’m the only one looking forward to the game.

Follow me on Twitter @Greg_the_Brave for more insights and nuggets about parenting.

Busy Parents and Exciting Times

This week was another exciting, action-packed week for yours truly and the family. There was one particular day…

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There’s never a dull moment with this house or this family… or this neighborhood.

Never a dull moment in
our idyllic enclave.

This week was another exciting, action-packed week for yours truly and the family. There was one particular day where I had a little more than my usual excitement. I got a phone call from my father, who told me he was meeting a friend for lunch and lunch just happened to be in this very bustling metropolis I call home. It just so happened that my mother had no plans on Wednesday, the day of the lunch, so she decided to accompany him to my house where we would make our own plans.

Heated Arm Rests and a Leaf Blower

My mother and I found a place for lunch, then went back to my house, where Dad was waiting for us. We drove to school to surprise The Boy and The Oppressed. We got to school, and they were surprised and so was I. My parents had bought a new car a couple of months ago and I got to ride in it for the first time. The arm rests were heated. I never knew such a technology existed. There were other fabulous amenities to this car, but my mind couldn’t get past the heated arm rests.

My nephew called. He was in the yard and having trouble with the leaf blower. I asked if the rake was broken too.

While we were driving to the school my nephew called my father. Nephew was doing some work in the yard and was having trouble with the leaf blower. Dad tried to walk him through it. He told him to try a couple of things. If the advice didn’t work, he could just forget about it and my dad would take a look at things when he got home. After Nephew hung up, I asked if the rake was broken too. My dad just shrugged.

We went back home where Lovie, Slick, and Slugger had returned from their day of learning and enrichment. Mom and Dad said hello and chatted briefly before starting their trek back home. After they left, I needed to give Slick a ride to work and get groceries for dinner. I then got The Oppressed, who wanted to check out a book at a local store (God bless her heart).

Neighbors to the Rescue

A seemingly harmless part of the street. This is where we helped the nice lady.

On the way to the store, we noticed a nice lady on the ground next to a dog. I was a concerned citizen, and I stopped the car to see what the problem was.

It turned out that the nice lady had awkwardly stepped into a small hole that was in the sidewalk. She hurt her leg, and, after a brief conversation, we learned that we actually lived on the same street. The oppressed and I helped her and her dog into the car and we drove her to her house, where her husband was waiting for her after she called him to tell him of her misfortune. When we told her where we lived, she told us she passed our house all of the time and noticed our dog.

From there, The Oppressed and I continued to the store. I then went home to cook dinner, which we ate like we always do on any other normal day where nothing out of the ordinary happens.

Just another day in the life…

Follow me on Twitter @bravedaddy

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