I excel at very few things in life, so when it comes to games.. I stack the deck.
I like to play what I win.
And there are three games at which I am virtually unbeatable.
1.
.
Scrabble.
We have one these fancy spinning boards in the man cave/Barn Mahal and on rainy days I love nothing more than mixing a drink and beating the pants off my spouse.
2.
.
Trivial Pursuit.
I am a font of useless knowledge and have loved this game since its inception way back in the dark ages of 1981. My husband has yet to beat me (at the original or any of the additional card sets) which makes me love it even more.
3.
.
Gin Rummy.
Seven cards, down and dirty. None of that ten card easy matching shite. My mother was a shark and taught me how to play with no mercy when I was a child. My husband, who loves to play Cribbage and Pinochle… quakes when I break out a deck.
Every morning dozens of starlings gather on our bedroom roof, run back and forth, drink water out of the gutters and generally drive His Lordship crazy.
A girlfriend I hadn’t seen in a long time was having a yard sale so we decided to surprise her and drop in.
Little did I know it would turn into a dangerous visit.
.
.
Dangerous because she was selling her convertible Jaguar.
.
.
No, we didn’t come home with it.
Though for a while there, I thought we might.
We chatted, had a nice visit … and before we knew it the lunch hour had arrived. Not being familiar with her area, we asked for dining recommendations and were pointed to a golf course.
.
.
Open to the public, it had a lovely mountain view…
.
.
And the most redneck, down home clubhouse I’ve ever seen.
This sign was in the ladies room.
.
.
See what I mean?
But yeeha ambience aside, the food was quite tasty.
.
.
Chicken broccoli Alfredo for the hubs, ginger chicken teriyaki stir fry for moi.
Goes to show you can’t judge a kitchen by its tacky rest room decor.
That horribly annoying, utterly destructive red spawn of a demon is back.
.
.
I saw her running all over and around the back deck…
.
.
Which means she’s looking for another nesting spot.
.
.
My loyal readers will remember the hell she put us through when she had her devils brood in our eaves a while back. We evicted her, only to have her chew her way through the wall in the man cave/Barn Mahal.
It was really just a big house with a big lawn and a couple of chickens.
.
.
But no matter, they had a tasting room.
.
.
And a bar with a menu.
.
.
That… and interesting beer is all we ever need.
.
.
So we tasted.
.
.
And tasted.
And since I couldn’t discern any recognizable plaid on the owner’s kilt, I had to ask.
.
.
Turns out he’s not Scottish or clan affiliated. He just doesn’t like pants.
And since we kept tasting, we ordered some food.
.
.
My husband went with The Perfect Scallop…
.
.
Which was less than perfect . One large scallop cut into thirds, which pretty much ruined it. It was presented on some kind of bizarre cheesy foam and as you can see… was not meant for hearty appetites.
Since I was drinking I threw my normal culinary caution to the wind and ordered their exotic smash burger of the week … which was of all things, kangaroo.
.
.
Was it awful? Yes. Dry and tasteless.
Do I regret ordering it? Absolutely.
.
.
Even the chickens were upset.
🤣
.
Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
