Scrabble-icious

This weekend has been scrabble-icious. We've either been stuffing ourselves with delicious food, or playing scrabble.

Yes, scrabble.

It's what we do when my mom, my sister, and I get together. I'm starting to wonder what I'll enjoy doing when I'm 80 if I'm getting my fill of dominoes and scrabble in my 30's. Maybe I'll be hobbling into clubs to make up for the lost days of my youth.

And yet we continue to play, to the exclusion of all else. Occasionally children are fed and diapers changed, but only when absolutely necessary. And sometimes not even then.

Of course there are house rules when we play. Our house rules can safely be summed up as "ways we break the actual rules."
Instead of 7 letters, we choose 9 for bigger & better wordage. We use the dictionary liberally, including before we make our plays.

That's how we've come to learn all of the words you can make with the letter Q when you don't have a U. Qat, qi, qadi, and qaid, among others. This particular dictionary helps make sure that you have fun and don't learn anything. All it does is list the words, and doesn't bother with non-essential information. You know, like definitions. It's how the word "maw" is on our current board, and none of us are any wiser as to what it means.
We come to play people, not to learn.

House rules also allow triple-double points for words that hit both a double and triple word score.

I know, I know. We're animals.

No word is out of the question, as long as it's in the official Scrabble dictionary.

See? I knew my anatomy class would pay off one day.

My mother is the word's most serious scrabble player. She will stare at those letters for hours. Literally hours. She will not make a move until she is positive that she's getting the most points possible. This is why our games sometimes drag out for days. And why she usually wins.

We used to have some scrabble socks that got passed along to the current victor. They had a scrabble design with a little fuzzy letter hanging off the back of the ankles. I can't say for sure where they are now, but consipracy theorists (Corie and I) believe that mom has taken and hidden them in the depths of her closet. And if you knew my mom's affinity for shopping, you would understand that we may never see them again.



I think the scrabble might actually be aging me. True story, I just said to my sister: "How'd it get to be so late? We'd better finish this up tomorrow."
It was 10:15.
Am I old, or what?

I now I want to take the opportunity to apologize to you all for writing a post about Scrabble. It's just wrong. And I'm sorry.

I'm also sorry that I took zero pictures of our Thanksgiving day at Dad & Cindy's. It was a great meal and we had the priveledge of not contributing one iota to the whole event. Except for eating. We helped a lot with that.

Hope you all had a nice holiday!
Gobble Gobble.