Ah, yes. The sun is shining, the breeze is barley whispering through the high dessert that is Central Oregon. I find myself somewhere I haven’t had the pleasure of going for the past 3 years: The Inman Family camping trip in Sunriver over the fourth of July. The setting is just right for me to make a fool out of myself. Here’s a quick hierarchy I threw together to explain the people I hang out with the most.
Bill----------------------------------Debbie
______|__________________
| |
Steve---------Rachel Tyler
_______|____________
| | | |
Jacey Macey Zac Cameron
Ignore misspelled names there. I am not so hot with the spellin. And ignore the poor formatting. It’s the best I could do. And ignore the fact the I left out a lot of people. Infact you should probably just ignore the whole thing. The only person that needed explaining was Cameron: Tyler’s nephew. Every year on this camping trip there is a Horseshoe tournament for grandchildren and their grandparents. Of course anybody can really play as the grandparent if a child asks them, because there is usually a shortage of grandparents to go around for all the grandchildren. Now, who has two thumbs and can’t throw a decent shoe if her life depended on it: this girl. Who is a sixth grade boy and doesn’t care if I suck or not he just wants a girl who isn’t his grandma on his team: Cameron. Of course when he asked me I had to think about it....
“Family bonding and whatnot aside, horseshoes is such a dumb game when you think about it. Who’s idea was it to throw 2 lbs of oddly shaped iron 45 feet across a lawn in an attempt not only to have it land in a 3 by 3 ft clay pit but also get it around a 18 inch post sticking out of it’s center? Do you have any idea how much those things bounce on the cement when you don’t make them in the pit?!? I do! And it’s a lot. On top of that the child that I am playing against and my 11 year old partner are standing on the opposite side of the pit directly were my rogue shoes are careening towards. This is such a bad idea in so many ways, but how can I say no? “
“Sure Cameron. I’ll be your partner, but I want to go practice tonight so you can see how bad I am at this game. If you still want to be my partner after that then I will happily be your grandma for the day”
Flash forward to the next morning. 8 am. I give Cameron one last chance to change his mind. I jokingly remind him of the previous night's practice run and how upsetting it was. Doesn’t matter. He’s set on me being his partner. . . Deep breath. . .I start getting my apologies ready for every old person I piss off either because I have given their offspring a concussion or because I have no idea what the official rules of horseshoes are. And these people mean business. They have gloves for better grips, horseshoes that are personalized, hook-thingys so they don’t have to bend down to get their shoes, visors, a snazzy name tag, and comfortable arch supporting shoes complete the look= 98% of the adults in this tournament. Pan to me. I have worn the only closed-toe shoes I brought camping: My bright silver Ed Hardy sneakers with aluminum foiled skull and crossbones across the sides. A blue tanktop that given photo evidence later on was much more low cut than I thought, and jeans that are rolled up to mid calf. No hook-thingy, no gloves, borrowed horseshoes, and a please-God-don’t-let-this-end-in-fistycuffs-with-a-seventy-year-old kind of attitude.
“Everybody please remove your hat for the Pledge of Allegiance”
“Holy crap. I don’t think I remember all the words to the pledge of Allegiance. Is there no part of this tournament I’m going to be good at?! I have got to be the worst patriot ever. Im pretty sure they linch you in Texas for this. It’s been since what? sixth grade that I have actually had to recite it. Can we do the National Anthem instead? I go to baseball games an stuff. I know that one. Fuck it. If I don’t know a part of it I am just going to mouth watermelon over and over again. “
........under God, with synergy and watermelon for all”. . . . Play ball.
Game 1- April throws a ringer!!! Tyler mock faints at the sight. Cameron makes all the other points. We miraculously win.
Game 2- Morale is high. Cameron does very well. Elderly gentleman who is my opponent named Buck is less than enthused with my skills “What you need to do is just release the shoe a little higher so you’re not bulleting it towards the pit” A hard loss for us.
Game 3- Morale is okay. Cameron does very well. Tyler comes up to me with a smart ass comment “Hey why don’t you try this time?” Elderly gentleman that is my opponent known as three dog hears this and says “hey tyler, is this your daughter Im playing against?”. I errupt in laughter. Tyler leaves. Three dog leans in “that oughta shut him up”. Post game (which we lost) Tyler, “I always knew that three dog was a son of a bitch.” I also got a solid piece of advice from three dog. Apparently I was releasing the shoe a little early. What I wanted to do was hold onto it just a little longer so I wasn’t scaring the children.
Game 4- Morale is so-so. Cameron throws an amazing game. My lady opponent, Dorothy, helps me out with my form. What I want to do is pretend the pole is a three gallon bucket and im tossing a softball into it. So hold onto the shoe a little longer. She doesn’t want to have to replace the divots I am making in the ground.
. . . You watch yourself, Dorothy.
Game 5- Morale is a word I no longer care about. Its been replaced with repressing very dark thoughts, and keeping a smile on my face as my new opponent, Pete, tells me he thinks my game would improve immensely if I kept ahold of the horse shoe until my arm was parallel to the ground. Fine!! So my next turn comes up and I do my best to hold on to the shoe as long as possible. 20 feet straight up in the air; this shoe had wings. The shoe plummeted back to the ground and stuck like a dart a good 10 feet from the pit. I look to my left. Tyler has fallen to the ground rolling with laughter. Cameron is starring at me wide eyed in disbelief that anybody my age could be so bad. And Pete calmly walks up to me and tells me that maybe that was a little to long to hold on to the shoe. . . Thanks Pete!!
Silver lining! We didn’t come in last. Or even second to last! We came in a solid third to last, thanks to Cameron’s skill. I was happy to be his stand-in Grandma, but please for safety-sake, ask your nana next year.
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