Monday, August 8, 2016


I don't mean the Olympics.  Although I have enjoyed watching them a bit.  Every four years I suddenly care about swimming and gymnastics for a few weeks.  Except men's gymnastics.  It kind of freaks me out.  Especially when they're hanging on those rings and their eyes and muscles are bulging in alarming ways.

I digress though.

I don't really love playing games all that much.  A complicated and intense board game full of strategy?  No thanks.  I am OK with a card game, if it's fast.  I don't have patience for much else.

Except Boggle.  It's my one talent.  I don't think Adam has ever beat me at Boggle.  He kindly offers to play when he thinks I need cheering.  Over the last several days, we had Boggle out on the table and played intermittently.  (It's an advantage of having a big kitchen table and not many people home.) Adam scored higher than me a few rounds but I soundly beat him in the end, just like always.

Why isn't Boggle an Olympic sport?

I also played (and outscored) Emma.

She's dangerous though.  I'm not sure I'll always beat her.

Adam and I were playing on Saturday afternoon.  Emma took a break from her reading and sat down at the table.  (She's been doing her self inflicted Harry Potter marathon again which is sort of crazy--she read over 1000 pages on Saturday alone.  Why does she do this?  No one knows.)  Emma watched us for a few minutes and then started writing words down on a piece of paper.

She got a whole bunch of words neither Adam or I saw.

She found jot and tittle in this.  I don't know what to think about having someone better at Boggle than me in the family.  She'd better stick to her reading...

We refused to acknowledge the words she had in common with ours.

Then she decided to go back to her reading.  (I can't imagine why.)

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