Bocce in the sun with Dab and Bev

Home from Maui Friday night, and glad of it.  Hawaii is beautiful, but our chickens were missing us.  And it’s cooler and dryer here.  4 days is just long enough for me in the Sandwich Islands.

Got home about 9:30, and wanted dinner.  We had a desultory lunch on the plane, it was time for some real food.  But, this is the ‘burbs–where can you eat late?  Fortunately, Metro in Lafayette serves until 11:00, so off we went.

Metro is always loud, but usually we can eat outside.  Not late at night, though.  We took the quietest possible table and had a good time.  The food is great, the service is smooth, they serve late, I’m a happy camper.

Saturday, we did almost nothing to recuperate from a week of doing nothing.  Makes sense if you say it fast and don’t think about it.

Today, we went to a party.  Bud and Bev Miller had family in from Houston, and threw a small party in the yard. (It says “Dab” above because Bud’s real name is Dabney, and that’s what Gail calls him.  So there.)

Dabney Miller isn’t exactly the most Italian of names, but they have a full size, regulation, honest-to-God Bocce court in their back yard, 6 inches of packed oyster shells and all.  Gail had to bring the set of bocce balls she keeps in her closet, although they have never been out of their case.

Of course, Gail's bocce balls are stainless steel.

 

Is he named after the beer, or the beer after him?

 

We chose teams by drawing cards–4 teams of 4, planning to play an elimination.  The “Queens” got stuck with both Gail and me, so our chances were pretty dim.

Bocce is played on a long court.  You throw one small white ball, the pallino, towards the other end, then each side tries to roll its balls closest to it.

The big green and red balls are the ones you roll, the little white one is what you aim for. Green is winning here.

 

Apparently, it is important to have a wine glass in one hand while you roll with the other.  Maybe that’s why I’m so bad at the game.

The spectators in the good seats.

 

A bocce court is 27.5 meters long--about 90 ft.

 

Grandson Jonathan hand painted the scoreboard.

Bocce is a natural extension of life for Bev, who was a championship bowler and bowling teacher in years past.  These days her hip doesn’t let her play, so daughter Tracy pinch-bowled for her.  Then Tracy had to leave to go to bed, because she has to be at work at 3:30 Monday morning for a conference call–such is the life of a bond/currency trader.

After some bocce, there was dinner.  Barbecued tri-tips, chicken, a variety of salads and a cupcake cake.  We were celebrating the engagement of their son Scott to his sweetie, Sharon.  They came from Houston because Bev isn’t able to travel there for a party.

That's a serious Barbecue, attached to the gas pipe, not a tank.

 

The Millers are a very musical family, and there was singing going on as we arrived.  So with singing, bocce and tri-tips, it was a perfect afternoon.

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