It's Monday, cards. Totally misjudging the amount of time needed to drop off the rent check and mail a letter, I arrived way early at the church, and spent a quarter hour driving around town, looking for a friendly picture.
Here is the candidate with the most potential. The sun will shine, the ivy will become bright and green, the wind chimes will ring and the bright umbrella will go back up. January is about gone; this picture could look much better in two more months.
And, we did laugh heartily for a couple of hours at cards. Peter and I each have card trouble. While he drones incessantly about my style, the real problem is the unending loss of fine motor control in my right hand. By the time I've sorted and spread my hand, the others have been waiting several minutes. Peter once had a similar problem, but he seems to have overcome.
Last September one other member of our group made a lovely card holder for Peter. A length of lumber, trimmed out, sanded, with a groove to hold Peter's card hand. It was a hit. Over our holiday hiatus, the other member took the cardholder for his granddaughter to use. It was a hit with the four year old, too, and didn't come back.
Today there were two new holders on the table; one for Peter, one for me. Now I can arrange a hand as quickly as anyone. Quicker than Peter!
Last week Nancy and I dusted Peter and Greg at pinochle. No, come to think about it, we were a hundred or so points ahead at one point, and they pulled to within thirty points near the end. We stayed and played one last hand; had they made enough points they could have won the day. They didn't. Too bad.
Today, our turn to get weak cards. Nancy and I lost. But all four of us went home with aching ribs, because Greg also made a trump teller. For the first time in three years the eternal question "What's trump?" was greeted by laughter, or rude jeers. Greg also made:
The trump teller. What's trump? That hand, diamonds.