I'm in love.
His name is Mr. Maraschino.
Cherry, that is.
Me n' him. We go way back. See, we both love virgin Pina Coladas. That's where the attraction started.
Of course, he loves sitting in the deliciousness and I love drinking the deliciousness.
All minor details.
Know what else I love? Scrabble. The game of the Gods.
Know what I love even more? Earning back the Scrabble glory/bragging rights from my brother-in-law after that unfortunate incident in December.
If anyone asks, I let him win.
Either way, Scrabble marathon contestants are becoming increasingly sparse. I must be a formidable opponent. Heh, heh.
Thus, when my coworker Em suggested we have a tourney during down time at the office, I couldn't believe my ears! I can still hear the Hallelujah chorus.
Needless to say, I successfully dominated round one (though, technically, we are both considered 'experts' for passing 200 pts. each). Round two will commence following lunch. Better be on your game, Em, cuz' I am on FI-YAH. *that says 'fire', mom*
May I just say that this brings joy to my heart? Especially when Em spelled 'urethra'. Impressive. (Too bad she didn't see my '40 pt.' wonder word comin'. Namely. 'Quack'. Bow down before me.) Yup. We spell body parts. Some more savory than others... *you know what I'm talkin' bout'*
What can I say? We're a club. We're a group.
We can be a secret society.
And no one else can join, unless they wear funny hats.
Of course, as President of said secret society, I can wear whatever I want. Such as the ear warmer headband I made with 'help' from my sisters. (I may very well be murdered for the quotation marks around that word. Look for my obituary in the Sunday paper. It won't be all sappy and lame like the rest of them. But that's a musing for a different day.)
All minor details.
Know what else I love? Scrabble. The game of the Gods.
Know what I love even more? Earning back the Scrabble glory/bragging rights from my brother-in-law after that unfortunate incident in December.
If anyone asks, I let him win.
Either way, Scrabble marathon contestants are becoming increasingly sparse. I must be a formidable opponent. Heh, heh.
Thus, when my coworker Em suggested we have a tourney during down time at the office, I couldn't believe my ears! I can still hear the Hallelujah chorus.
What can I say? We're a club. We're a group.
We can be a secret society.
And no one else can join, unless they wear funny hats.
Of course, as President of said secret society, I can wear whatever I want. Such as the ear warmer headband I made with 'help' from my sisters. (I may very well be murdered for the quotation marks around that word. Look for my obituary in the Sunday paper. It won't be all sappy and lame like the rest of them. But that's a musing for a different day.)
And for a close up on the exquisite flower design...
*Shut up, Gem. There are plenty of petals.*
Can we spell 'S-N-A-Z-Z-Y'?
Why yes we can.
We Scrabble.
Why yes we can.
We Scrabble.
2 comments:
I have not idea when you took that picture. You're sneaky.
I haven't played scrabble in YEARS! I'll have to buy it and challenge the hubby to a tourney! Love the cute headband! Darling!
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