I’m not very good at games. Really. Any kind of game at all. I lose interest quickly, complain about the total injustice of it all and probably, in all fairness, ruin the fun for everyone else in the process.
But Cristy loves games. She got me a Scrabble set for Christmas. She got it for us. To play together because I told her that I would play Scrabble. I don’t know what I was thinking.
We pulled out the Scrabble set on New Year’s Eve. Sounds like a rockin’ time, right? Well, I have to admit that my vanity got the better of me because I was thinking this Scrabble thing was going to be a slam-dunk. OK, so I hadn’t played the game in 36 years. But, I have an above average intellect, so, how hard could it be?
The answer is that it can indeed be hard. Initially, I was only concentrating on my 7 little tiles, trying to determine how many fabulous words I could imagine. I conveniently forgot that the point of the game was to integrate my tiles in the columns and rows of tiles on the Scrabble board. But more importantly, I forgot about this thing called s-t-r-a-t-e-g-y.
But Cristy didn’t forget. She knows all about it.
She would hone in on the triple point spots with the letter Z, forming a word that she could expand upon with a handy prefix or suffix on her next turn.
So, here I am forming a beautiful word with 1-point tiles, sprawled across the middle of the board, getting, say 10 or 12 points for my effort. While Cristy, on the other hand, churns out a 3-letter word crowded at the edge and reels in 38 points.
Total injustice, I say.
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