His gesture was met with overwhelming enthusiasm and once a month, for the next several months, a dozen men rotated to different houses for their evening of ping-pong fun and camaraderie. The Championship match was this past weekend, at our house.
In preparation of the event, I took a long lunch one afternoon and helped Charlie pick out the most gaudy trophy we could find. We had the award store etch a ping-pong paddle figure for the top, and place empty plates on three sides so that the winner's name can be engraved and it can be passed around each year for the next several decades, like the Stanley Cup.
It is expected that this trophy will be prominently displayed on the winner's mantel, or some other highly visible location in their home, and will be coveted by all the 40+ year old neighborhood males that enter. We also picked out ribbons for the various contenders. Of course there was first place - this ribbon accompanied the trophy...
And then there was second place...
And third place (this is Charlie's ribbon) ...
And fourth place...
And fifth place...
And sixth place...
And seventh place...
And eighth place!
Apparently, ribbons stop at eighth place, because for the rest of the participants, we had these Honorable Mention ribbons to award. As we were picking these items out, Charlie and I were absolutely cracking up because we are both extremely immature and this is exactly the kind of thing that gives us the giggles. (The store owner, meanwhile, probably thought we were drunk.)
When we made the awards at our neighborhood Octoberfest, my husband proudly accepted his third place ribbon. The wife of the man who came in eighth place accepted the ribbon on his behalf.
As she did she told us that she thinks that this ribbon will be a really nice compliment to his Law Office in Washington, DC. In fact, she's going to try and convince him to hang it from his Harvard diplomas.
If nothing else, it'll be a good conversation piece.
