I planned to write about the tournament as soon as I got home, but the kids stayed over Monday night, then I worked and had mediation meetings and more kid time and then worked some more… very good and busy week, really.

So here I am, finally. The tournament was great. My record (8-7) doesn’t sound great. I did make some boneheaded errors. In fact, it looks like -- as much as I can’t believe it and hate to confess it publicly -- I probably missed the word BASENJIS. For a kajillion points. I have gone back over my score sheet with disbelief and creative rack leave analysis, and I am pretty sure that’s the rack I had. So that was indeed a terrible miss. But in that same game, I also made one of the better strategic plays I’ve made in my scrabble “career” and was rewarded by being able to play out with ESTUARIaL from the ES and win the game. From low to high in one short game. I’ll resist making comments about metaphors for life.

I had a lot of good luck and a lot of bad luck. I so often draw well that in the past I’ve not dealt well emotionally with a run of bad luck, and I feel like, in this event at least, I kept my wits (and humor) about me. And the bad luck didn’t last long, just a few games. Honestly, I feel like my biggest triumph was emotional. I rode it out.

John and I gave some of the young punks of Scrabble a ride to the train station. Such wonderfully quirky, brilliant, nerdy young men. The high point MIGHT have been when one of the young men told us all that he thinks he has a parasite.

Meanwhile, back at the Big E expo center in Springfield, Massachusetts (one of the worst places to get lost in America, maybe in the world), Curie was not winning her shows. Apparently I’ve kept her a little on the thin side, which means the judges think she’s “long”. She was thrilled to hang out with her brother Pippin, however. Curie and Pippin think they are Meant To Be Together. They’d establish an Egyptian dynasty if we’d approve. Or if we’d look the other way.

So. All that news is really to say: I’m doing okay. I feel my nerve endings again. My paralysis is not entirely gone, but I am looking at things with something like my old chirpy Pollyanna ways. “A futon, an iron, and a welcome mat and this apartment is DONE!”

At club on Thursday, I played two phoneys. This makes me very happy. I have felt for a while that I worry so much about playing phoneys that I forego perfectly good words. “Take more risks,” I have jotted on more than one scoresheet. Neither word was obviously bad. Neither was on the list of “phamous phoneys”. Neither word was challenged off. Take more risks, indeed.

Okay, so I’m never really going to be a hang glider. I hope that doesn’t disappoint anyone. (For one thing, it takes a lot of hand-holding to get me up in the air in the first place; it’s hard to hang glide with one hand.) I can fly kites, which is almost as nifty! But I digress.

These days I’m doing a lot of scary things, a lot of stepping out on faith. Maybe other people wouldn’t find them as scary as I do. But the important thing here is that I find them scary -- and that I’m doing them anyway. So what if it isn’t usually considered brave to argue with utility companies? It is brave of me.

Last night at Scrabble club, all my years of preparation finally paid off. People have scoffed at me. But no more!

When S. arrived at the club, I was odd man out, so I immediately offered/begged for a game. He had his arms full of stuff, bags and the like, and I began to set up my board, rummaging through my (disorganized) bag for racks and tiles. And gum. And a cough drop. And a pen.

Meanwhile, S. was rummaging less successfully in his bags. He’d located a salad but was muttering under his breath. I found the other wooden rack and slapped it on the table.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a FORK in there, would you?” he asked sarcastically.

He obviously doesn’t know me very well. “Why -- yes I do!” I opened the outside pocket of the bag, pulled out a stainless steel fork, and handed it to him.

He took it without further comment and ate his salad.

My scrabble rating as of today is 1695. It has been a little higher than that, but I’m marking an official line here: January 1, 2005, I’m at 1695. What will it be on January 1, 2006?

This week’s scrabble news/progress. Let’s see, I went 3-1, won 20 bucks.

The club situation was awkward, though. Right after I arrived, Bob arrived, and we paired up. He won the first game. Then the entire operation had to move to a member’s house, because the community center was closing early for holidays. When we got there, the other director said, a little hesitantly, “Bob, you want to play Marsh? You two are the two highest rated here.” Bob said yes. (He doesn’t enjoy playing lower rated players, I don’t think.) I said, kind of jovially, “good, I can win my money back!” But I had the sense that the other players thought that I didn’t want to play with them. Okay, it IS good for my game to play against players like Bob. Especially for money. But I don’t want to irritate other players, either.

(The club member who hosted the gathering spent the first 20 minutes or so in the family room haranguing her elderly mother. At one point, I swear, she said, “Do you hear me? I’m sick of this. I’m going to put you in a home.” We all kept our heads bowed over our boards. Next time I’m going to go in and sit with the old lady and let Bob play the crabby woman.)

The next few months will be a little busy here, but I have started reading through the old Medleys I got for Christmas and I’m continuing my study. My version of study is a little eccentric, but it works for me. So now I just have to coordinate time and money and decide upon the next tournament…