Cullen turned twenty-one on Saturday, and we spent the day making preparations to host a large party at the farm cottage on Saturday night. There are few social gatherings I enjoy as much as a good family gathering at the River. We split firewood, hung lights, and Cullen and Conor built a new game called Polish Horseshoes, which became an instant classic.
Polish Horseshoes consists of two spikes set in the ground big enough to host a beer bottle atop each. Players can play singles or doubles and take turns throwing a frisbee at the other team's pole attempting to knock the beer bottle off the top. Points are awarded for knocking the bottle off clean, knocking it off hitting the post, and lesser points if the other team catches it after the bottle is knocked off. The game went on into the wee hours of the morning.
Kerry was sick most of the evening and unable to take part in the festivities. I ended up sitting around the fire until three with only Luke Metcalf left to accompany me. The canoe full of ice and beer was three quarters empty when I finally retired to bed.
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