Wednesday, January 5, 2011

It's A Small World After All

One of the activities here at Rincon Country West where I am wintering (and waiting for the arrival of My Dear Wife) is a game called Pickle Ball.  No pickles are harmed during the game at all.  It happened that Pickles was the name of the dog of the guy who invented the game.  The first time I played it a couple of years ago, I came back to our motor home then, and MDW asked me what Pickle Ball was.  I told her then that it was tennis for seniors.  Think badminton court, with a tennis height net, paddle ball like paddle, and a whiffle ball.  Somehow it all works and we get some exercise and have a few laughs.  Some of the laughs revolve around trying to remember the score.
Pickle Ball starts on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday mornings about 8:30 and goes to about 11:00.  About being the operative word.  People wander in, wander out (or maybe get lost), and so it is a bit fluid.

So, yesterday morning I arrived shortly after 8:30 and a first game was just starting up, and they were short 1 player.  As I stepped on to the court, the chap that I was going to be playing with was new.  At least I had not seen him before.  So, as per usual, I asked his name (Dave) and where he was from.  He said "Canada".  I responded by asking him where in Canada he had come from.  He looked at me like I would have no idea if he told me, but then he said: "London Ontario."  I said that was where I was from.  Turns out he was from south London, though he and his wife are full time RVer's now. 

In the it's a small world vein, there is a couple at the end of our street from London, Ontario as well. They have been here off and on for 12 years, and though we have been here for 4 years, we had never seen them before.

Also, beside our place here there is a Ford truck parked with Alberta plates, and behind our place is a trailer and truck with Alberta plates as well.

Of the people playing pickle ball, almost 1/3 were Canadians.  And in the whole park, there seems to be a larger contingent coming here every year.  To come here from Alberta takes a while but it is a straight southbound shot.  If you come from the east, you gotta wanna be here.

A friend from Montana was telling me the other day that how he knew it was chilly here was that he saw a Canadian put on socks.  I was in sandals at the time, and it was about 7C here that day.  (It's only 2C now at 8:30 am, but will get to 17C today, but I'm not gloating.)

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