It's time for a Friday post. You know the grill. Mrs. 4444 provides a nice place for bloggers to collection their Friday Fragment posts. Since it's the middle of summer here (I have an occasional reader from south of the equator so I point out the season once in awhile) I think I'll grill my fragments. Whatever your reason for your season please browse over to the fragment roast at Mrs. 4444's blog.
Those cement objects in the grass might be mistaken for flag pole holders to those not familiar with the tossing of the bean bag. I took the above picture at a neighboring city park this week. We had gone there for the splash park but I noticed these nearby.
I've played the game many times. I know it is played throughout the Midwest but I'm not sure if it is popular on our two coasts. Some call it cornhole/corn toss (the bags were often filled with dried corn) or tailgate (extensively played during tailgating parties). This is the first I've seen fixed platform stations with cement side pads for the players. Someone at their park district must be a serious bean bagger. I wonder if anyone there is a member of the American Cornhole Association .
I commented to someone the other day that their dream sounded better than my last one. I don't know why I have arguments in a dream. More pointless than my arguments when I'm awake.
(Really I’m not obsessed about this. But go ahead criticize me in the comment section) During my saunter in the superstore today, the end was foreshadowed. Not my backend which doesn’t cast a shadow. No, the end for me as in the big dirt nap. I now think I know how it’s going to end. She-the-fast-walker will find the biggest superstore around and convince me to join her. Once inside the cavern of rollback smiley faces she will challenge me to find some item listed on a coupon. I’ll never see her again. I will wander for hours. Near closing time my body smashed by an overstuffed fast moving cart will be discovered in the home goods section.
a pet peeve (do you keep peeves for pets - they don’t eat anything) - Buying ripped jeans - a sign of yet-to-be developed brain? Or maybe a low patience level so low that they can not wait for the jeans to rip themselves.
Could I become the digital clown of great renown? Hey lighten-up, enjoy a tune on me:
 |
| serious bean toss |
Those cement objects in the grass might be mistaken for flag pole holders to those not familiar with the tossing of the bean bag. I took the above picture at a neighboring city park this week. We had gone there for the splash park but I noticed these nearby.
I've played the game many times. I know it is played throughout the Midwest but I'm not sure if it is popular on our two coasts. Some call it cornhole/corn toss (the bags were often filled with dried corn) or tailgate (extensively played during tailgating parties). This is the first I've seen fixed platform stations with cement side pads for the players. Someone at their park district must be a serious bean bagger. I wonder if anyone there is a member of the American Cornhole Association .
 |
| enjoying the beans after rough game |
I commented to someone the other day that their dream sounded better than my last one. I don't know why I have arguments in a dream. More pointless than my arguments when I'm awake.
(Really I’m not obsessed about this. But go ahead criticize me in the comment section) During my saunter in the superstore today, the end was foreshadowed. Not my backend which doesn’t cast a shadow. No, the end for me as in the big dirt nap. I now think I know how it’s going to end. She-the-fast-walker will find the biggest superstore around and convince me to join her. Once inside the cavern of rollback smiley faces she will challenge me to find some item listed on a coupon. I’ll never see her again. I will wander for hours. Near closing time my body smashed by an overstuffed fast moving cart will be discovered in the home goods section.
a pet peeve (do you keep peeves for pets - they don’t eat anything) - Buying ripped jeans - a sign of yet-to-be developed brain? Or maybe a low patience level so low that they can not wait for the jeans to rip themselves.
Could I become the digital clown of great renown? Hey lighten-up, enjoy a tune on me:
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