48. Monopoly

That age old game. Monopoly. Known worldwide, I'm sure, and loved by thousands. Millions even.

For my family, Monopoly is a game only played on vacations.

Years ago, we took a month long trip in the motor home, hitting several states, lakes, rivers, and, mainly, national parks. Early on in the trip we purchased National Park Monopoly. Ripping open the package, we eagerly searched the board for places we'd been. Flattop, Yellowstone, National Mall, Mount Rushmore, Yosemite, Petroglyph, the Great Smoky Mountains. Since then, it's lived in our motor home. And only in our motor home.

Every trip involves late nights of cut throat Monopoly. Monopoly in which we argue and bicker over Dinosaur, Valley Forge, Yellowstone, the Trails, and Free Parking (because yes, we play the out-of-the-book rules of Free Parking). Collecting $200 when we pass Go and celebrating when we avoid the tents and lodges and Yellowstone by getting sent to Jail. Paying each player $50 when we're elected Park Ranger of the Year and paying $115 for each lodge we've set up. Mortgaging properties to pay the $1200 on Agate Fossil Beds and sighing when we have no choice but to buy Edison even though the most it will earn is $48 a hit. Laughing when mom, with her two properties, ends up beating us all by making $2500 on Free Parking and trading for a Yellow Monopoly with Stephen (those lodges are a bitch!). Everyone getting mad at dad when he refuses to make a trade, mom frustrated that he's not using this "teaching opportunity" to its full potential. National Park Monopoly has been the cause of more than one swear word in front of the kids, several nights of going to bed angry, and lots and lots of teaming up against the previous night's winner (usually dad). Yet, every single year, we go back to it. Sarah as the tent; dad, the bear; mom, the cannon; Stephen, the canoe; Andrew, the hiking boot. Each night full of the promise of doubles, community chest, bargaining, trading, and losing.

Today's Sunny Thing?
Monopoly