Kickball; the Sport of Kings

The other day I was invited to fill in on a kickball team. Supposedly a bunch of the regular players couldn't make it, but I think the real reason is that they had been told that kickball had been cancelled, so that superior players like myself could jump into the roster and hit the field running.

I knew it was gonna be fun, but I also knew we faced extreme odds fielding a team of only six players. Fortunately, this was a hand-picked, elite squad of kicking fury, so needless to say we weren't scurred.

We steadily drove in runs through the first few innings by playing smart, fundamental kickball...driving it at the girls who looked like they didn't want to muss their hair (did I mention this is co-ed kickball?). The following video is a perfect example of how I personally overcame adversity at a pivotal moment in the game.



But alas, all of our steam was released as our defense faltered and our muscles stiffened. The opposing team of buzzed-up thirty-somethings found a way to manufacture runs late in the affair to overtake our game-long lead. Despite a tough loss, our patchwork band of warriors exited the arena with heads held high, pleased with the display of sportsmanship, integrity, and self-respect.

On a Mission for Free Fishin'

Was the mission successful? I'll get to that in a moment. What's far more worthy of mention is the visit we were paid by a certain beautiful Iowan couple. Brando and Kimbo. We had much to catch up on, so we got right to it...and talked ourselves hoarse.


Burning $600 worth of gasoline tends to leave a traveler weary, so the men grunted around a fire with booze on ice while the ladies caught up on all the latest needlepoint techniques and Riunites...so nice.

There were also gifts delivered straight off the assembly line of Brandodojo craft brewery...

We had the first taste of Honey Wheat.


Now for the big fish story you've all been waiting for. We shook off a couple of junior varsity hangovers and got our shows on the road at the crack of 10:30. We packed up our deadliest tackle, listened to some attempted discouragement from my neighbor as we loaded up the canoe, and headed to Bloomer.


I have eaten many pies from the fabled Main Street Cafe, but I had never actually taken the pilgrimage to this mecca of wholesomeness. I took advantage of the "special" for a scant $1.99 while my counterpart ordered something that was called like the Lumberjammer or the Farmhand...or the Beekeeper. At any rate, it was like a special with bacon.



Then pie.


Much as we could've drank coffees and rotted away in there all day, we knew there were fish to slay. So we pushed on to Marsh-Miller Lake, home of beer-flavored marshmallows. We got the canoe off the car and avoided disaster as we launched onto the fish-impregnated waters. The hours wore on as we continued our assault on the lake. Surely a fish would bite...surely they know the arrangement. But much to our chagrin, the only thing we took from Marsh-Miller were the memories of a special canoe ride and brutal sunburn. No big whoop, we had plenty of food at home that was more than fit for consumption.




Here we are, talking it out over a couple of beers at the local resort. "Fishing doesn't make the man." we assured each other.




And of course, there was Maura time.

The End.

Pleasant Temps with Scattered Gunfire

The weather this weekend was spectacular and I tried to be ready to make use of it, so bright and early Saturday morning my home-skillet Scott and myself hit the rifle range.

He had just acquired a deadly Browning A-bolt .22 (sadly no picture) and still had the itch to shoot it, and I just wanted to squeeze a few through my trusty Ruger 10-22.

I didn't test myself this time...just sort of plinked away at a high rate. Before we left though, I stuck a target to the 50 yard marker and carefully directed 10 rounds at it.

Not terrible I guess.

Sunday we hit the geocache scene in Eau Claire and did a little treasure hunting. It was a beautiful day for a little exercise and photography, and Punky-Wunks was as well-behaved as we could've reasonably hoped for. I'll take a weekend like that any day of the week.