Is It Just Me?

Am I the only person who negotiates with Spider Solitaire?

I strut up to the computer keyboard with great confidence, arrogance really.

"(Wo)man over machine," I tell myself. This is kid's stuff.  I will blast that game- after I toy with it a little bit.

I start with Level 2.  No Level 1 since it's too simple for me.  

I click on the deck of cards displayed on the lower right side of the screen.  Not much comes up to work with but I still have plenty of turns left. I am still confident.

I click again.  I can make several moves and my over-inflated ego expands even more.

"Oh, yeah.  Watch out, here I come!"

I click again.  Several more moves but no king through aces of the same color go over to my side.

"Hmmmmm.  Okay.  I have two more moves. I can still win if I can make a suit on this next turn."

Nothing.  Well, yes, I can move the cards around a little but no matches.

Here's where the negotiation begins:

"All right.  I can still win if I'm very careful."

Click.  I'm stumped.  Again.

"I would be happy if I can make ONE suit.  Just one.  I won't be fussy."

Click.  I lose.

"Maybe I'll do better on the NEXT game."

So much for negotiation.  


p.s.  One night I played so badly and for so long that I actually looked around ON THE FLOOR to see if I'd dropped any cards!

Vacation Excitement

Nothing is more eagerly anticipated than a vacation.

It stirs up thoughts of freedom and rest.  Or of  fun and excitement.

Some folks I know think waay ahead and shop for a new wardrobe.  They begin packing early.

Then there's me.

I kinda sorta know what I think I maybe will need.  Then I make lists that I promptly lose.

I know where I'm going most of the time but the other details remain fuzzy.

To me, if too much is planned it can't be much of a vacation.

Which always leads me to the mecca of all vacation spots:

Wal-Mart.

For some reason, Wal-Mart looms large in terms of vacation planning.  Although I can go to my local store 24/7 any day any time of the year it seems to hold more promise when vacation comes around.

I look around with the expectation that whatever is around the next aisle is the ONE THING I need to make this trip perfect.  New flerp flerps?  Of course! Little canvas bags and sun umbrellas and weird plastic plates and cups?  How could I have ever lived without them before this?

The place even smells exciting.  Now that one I can't explain.

Buying the disposable paper plates and wet wipes, the sunblock, floppy hat and magazine (that I'll save for the trip, of course) makes me unreasonably happy.

Perhaps it's simply the idea of fun and relaxation on a long awaited journey that makes Wal-Mart such an oasis. Even stepping into an out-of-town Wal-Mart implies that something cool is just around the corner.

Of course, when vacation is over for another year, Wal-Mart turns back into a pumpkin.  The lipgloss is just gooey stuff and beach towels are just towels.

But for that brief moment in time it signifies escape and freedom and fun.

And they even greet you at the door.