Pocahontas sightings and the fine art of Beersby

Thanks to a good neighbor/friend of mine, tonight I was introduced to the fine art of Beersby.  It's a simple game.  Two 5' poles spread approximately 25 feet apart with a lone beer perched atop each.  Players earn points by accurately flinging a frisbee to knock the other teams said beer off of said pole while the opponents must catch both said frisbee and beer, while simultaneously holding their own bottle of beer in one hand.  It was mindless fun which couldn't have been more precisely what I needed for my swirling noggin of contemplations.  The best part of this party was that it was outside on one of the most beautiful plots of farmland I have ever had the pleasure of setting foot.  The serene glow of the golden, rolling hillsides, the hum and laughter of the party goers, the melodic rhythm of conversation mingling with the evening crickets... the beautiful girl who looked like Pocohantas...kindof...but in a much more modern, sexy, I drive a pick-up truck and I camp in a tent, not a tee-p, kind of way.  We locked eyes a few times in the awkward way flirtatious tension tends to provoke.  She looked at me, I gave a crooked smile and glanced away. I looked at her again, she spilled her drink. It was a good time.  My friend left early while her daughter and I finished up the semi-finals of this new found pleasant past time. We secured our victorious last place honors and headed home.  Something about the air tonight feels different.  Maybe it's a feeling of slowly belonging. Maybe it's a feeling of letting go. Or perhaps it's just the night air turning cooler that's making me smile as I pull up my driveway, happy for a hot cup of tea and contentment.  Either way, Beersby and Pocohantas have given me hope for something more in this town.