Every year since before I can remember my Thanksgivings have been spent in Ponchatoula on my grandmother's farm. My great aunt and uncle from Texas are usually always here, my great aunt and uncle from Washington are pretty much always here, and a couple of distant cousins from various places come some years. My dad, his three brothers, and their wives are always here. My grandmother, of course. And then her seven grandchildren.
The long time tradition is that one night before Thanksgiving we all sit down and play a fun game of Liverpool Rummy. It's my favorite card came in all the land. I have so many great memories at the card table. I've been playing since I was about 11 or so. Also, I'm the reigning champ of 2007. (We didn't play in 2008 because none of the aunts or uncles could come in.) This year, however, I passed my title on to my father who beat us all pretty badly.
But the thing about this year is that it was my brother's first time playing without a partner. Usually, the little kids will want to come play and even though I was only 11 when I started playing on my own, the game gets really complicated so we usually partner them up with one of the adults playing. The thing about Bob and games is that he's super-ultra competitive so when a game of strategy, patience, and deceit comes along, he can get a little...passionate.
He's a Kyle. We're hot-blooded folk. What can I say?
I thought the child was going to have an aneurysm he was stressing out so bad. He would pound his fist, make his face turn red, and scream randomly like he had a tick...
People, it was frightening.
He was completely immersed in the game.
Finally, in the last, most stressful Liverpool Rummy hand Bob went out. (Which means he was the first to get rid of his cards. It's a good thing. You get zero points. In Liverpool Rummy, points are bad.) I thanked God up above because I don't think he would have slept had he lost that hand. It was really getting to him. He was making all of us really nervous...Freakerzoid...
Yes, I said freakerzoid. No, I'm not twelve.
That's not the only thing going down in Ponchatoula. Just wait till I write about the rat friend I've gotten the privelege to get to know at night since I've been up here. That'll be a real treat for ya!
Wishing you all a Happy Turkey Day!