Up The Creek
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The boys were chauffered to Sarcastro Mountain this weekend to meet their new grandparents. Despite all predictions of disaster and Apocalypse, the weekend turned out perfect.
New Grandma was inventive enough to stage a scavenger hunt as soon as the boys walked in the door. Though they found the prize somewhat anti-climactic, the thrill of the hunt delighted them. To their credit, the boys were on their best behavior; having been both begged and threatened regarding their comportment.
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Certainly, during the Driveway Bowl, the boys learned that sibling rivalry continues long after childhood. A play fight I had with my brother, spilled over and caused a riot on the field. I turned around to see the boys throttling each other, just like the big kids. The game brought out the competitor in each of us. It got to the point where my old fat ass was so winded, I couldn't count to "five-Mississippi" without dropping dead from hypoxia.
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Even with the VCR in the car not working for the ride home, the kids were able to keep themselves entertained. If they learn nothing else under my watch, they should at least learn that.
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My father was very sure about certain matters pertaining to the universe. To him, all good things—trout as well as eternal salvation—come by grace and grace comes by art and art does not come easy. Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It.