Tuesday, October 25, 2005

Dead Skunk in the Middle of the Road

While on our way to visit family one weekend, Emma (12), suggested that she and I play "Graveyard" in the car. (Q, my sweetie, is driving, and thus can't fully participate, and teenage son is sound asleep in the back.) Turns out the game is not nearly as morbid as it sounds, but is rather a counting game, wherein all parties are assigned a window out of which they are to count as many living creatures (humans excepted), or representations thereof, as possible. The one with the highest count after a certain time, wins. And why "Graveyard"? Well, if anyone sees a graveyard, then all other participants' counts go back to zero. There is some discussion as to how to deal with birds, which, though they may be spotted through one window, are very often within another player's range within seconds. (Answer: if it passes your window, even if it already passed someone else's, you can count them!) And - eeuw - what about that poor critter, laying right on the yellow line? Emma decides, in the interests of fairness, that anything right in the middle is the driver's. The driver objects: "What? I only get squashed ones?" Emma consoles him, "No, they don't have to be squashed. You just get the ones right on the line." He is too pragmatic for that: "If it's on the line, Emma, it's squashed!" Emma: "Eeeuuww."

6 Comments:

Blogger The June Cleaver Diaries said...

Ugh. Spam.

You should ask Misfit Hausfrau about "Muddin'" Trust me.

10/25/2005 10:01:00 AM  
Blogger Aginoth said...

ugh....roadkill

10/25/2005 01:49:00 PM  
Blogger Mary P. said...

SNMartha: Spam gone! Yay, me. Okay, I asked: I have to go back and check for her answer. (Can she answer in public?)

Aginoth: Ugh, indeed. It's worse when the crows arrive. Though, arguably, better once they're done... Nature is messy bytimes!

10/25/2005 09:32:00 PM  
Blogger Misfit Hausfrau said...

I wasn't sure what SNM was talking about because the term wasn't Muddin, it was "greasin possum." My husband comes from Southern Indiana. One of the favorite activities down there for the youths was to run over possums. I am not going to go any further because I am eating potato chips and I don't want to stop eating them out of disgust from the vivid descriptions I have received of said activity.

10/25/2005 09:42:00 PM  
Blogger The June Cleaver Diaries said...

Then what the heck was Muddin? I actually remembered it was Greasin' Possum when I was in the shower today, but I was to lazy to turn the computer back on to correct myself. You should mention, Haufrau, that the possums were already dead, lest anyone try to contact PETA.

10/25/2005 09:47:00 PM  
Blogger Mary P. said...

SNMartha, Hausfrau: Oh, yuuuuk! It's marginally better to know they were dead already, but lordy. Surely there are better ways to spend one's time? And we won't even speculate about the mind and culture that views this as entertainment, because someone we know and love is married (on purpose, I presume?) to one of the perpetrators. Presumably he has redeeming features...

10/26/2005 09:05:00 AM  

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