Crocet... Crochet... Crow-Kay?

So I don't know how to spell crokay. You know that game where you stick the little white things in the ground and you get a mallet to wack you ball through it. Sounds sick and wrong when I describe it like that, but I don't know how else to.

This was a game that I vividly remember playing when I was younger. It was probably one of the times that our neighbor's mom forbid her children from ever playing with us again. But that happened about every second week, so we got used to it. It really got serious when one of us Mumby brother's chucked sand in one of the Belouw brother's face and sent him to the hospital to get his eye flushed out. Come to think of it, things also got serious when one guy ran home with blood running down his face after our little game got somewhat out of hand. But that was a regular occurance with us growing up.

I remember we had this cool... crow-kay... set and me and my friend Remi (we called him Bay) would set up and play for hours on end. We were not normal. It generally turned into setting up the little white things on complete ends of our yard and blasting the ball as hard as we could. I don't think we cared about accuracy... we just wanted to hit things really hard.

I revisited my childhood again this evening with a vengance. My friend, Andrew, had recently aquired a nice new... I wish I knew how to spell freaking crow-kay right so I didn't have to use phonetics every time... set. This was the first time it had been used so we set up a wicked course in his backyard and proceeded to start the first of many games in what could be a very long tournament. A very long tournament only because I will not stop until I win.

Judging by my performance tonight that could be a while.

Although, I did make a shot of a lifetime. A bank shot off a concrete wall, over a sidewalk, that went straight through the little white thing! I was so proud of myself. I would like to say that I judged the vectors and angles just perfectly, but in all honesty I was lapsing back into my childhood and just wanted to hit the ball really hard and see what would happen.

Once again, prooving the need to have closed circut television on my life at all times.

Andrew won the best two out of three event. So we went to 2nd Cup and celebrated.

Other happenings of note today would include the construction of the Mumby Pier out at our lake. Aaron and Dad made the first section. Geordie, Kayle and Dad completed the last section. It was good that Geordie was there because he made the operation somewhat more streamlined. Turns out Aaron and Dad were using very much the wrong screws that took a gajillion times more effort to put in. One recommendation from Geordie fixed that and dad said, "Geez, that took about a quarter of the time with the right screws..." So sorry, Aaron... your effort does not go un-noticed.

Then mom and I watched at Dad and Geordie wrestled the pier pieces into place in knee deep muck. Unpleasant. Geordie just about lost his flip-flops and he sank surprisingly far into the muck at the shoreline.

I think the greatest part was when dad had to move a giant boulder out of the way. Somehow he reached down and picked this thing up which had to have weighed at least 150 pounds. He stumbled away a bit and tossed it as far as he could away from them, causing one of the largest splashes I have seen in recent history and soaking both himself and Geordie.

Once again I ask myself the question, "What the heck do our neighbors think of us?"

But when walking back to our cabin we saw this one older guy who lives out there... in his sweat-pants... just his sweat-pants... that were far too small... far too small to cover his crack...

And at that point I thought to myself, "We're perfectly fine."