I've written three posts for today. All whiny drivel. I decided to go back to my photo album for inspiration for something to write about that wasn't depressing, medical, or would cause you all to call the men in little white coats to come get me.
It's time you learned Backyard Fence Ball. This is the game you and your siblings invent when you all want to play baseball, only there are only 3, not 18 of you.
Each person is his or her own team. When you're up to bat, you hit the ball, run to first. Get there safely? Go hit again. Get to first safely again? You are now figuratively on second. Hit again? Get to second? You're home! Simple arithmetic. You get around the bases on singles, doubles, and triples, and each play is added to the one before. Still three outs.
The other two players are BOTH trying to get you out. One pitches, the other fields, as does the pitcher once the ball is away. To get someone out, you just have to hit THE BASE, or hit the person. First base was the fence you see in the back ground. We were fairly reasonable about what was close enough to first base, although this is the point we argued the most. We should have just drawn a circle in chalk and called it done. We did like to fight though...Second base was the big tree. Anywhere on the trunk was fine. Third was a lawn chair. Again, anywhere was fine. Home was a home plate. Well, a circle drawn in the dirt.
We played this game for hours. When we lost our wiffle ball (um, yeah, I never said it was a real baseball) (but a wiffle ball does sting if thrown by DataBoy) we'd play a kickball version of it. Yes, I did get over my kickball trauma. Eventually. DataBoy usually won because he had three skills that us girls didn't possess many of: hitting the ball, throwing the ball accurately, and catching the ball. Sigh. It was fun though.
“It's a simple game. You throw the ball, you hit the ball, you catch the ball. Sometimes you win. Sometimes you lose. Sometimes it rains.”
~Tina, challenging you to quote the movie