Bon Chance

The Crazy Kite. The Postage Stamp. The Garbage Game. My workmate took me to play bingo. I have always wanted to play but when we got to the community center I was glad I had never attempted to do it alone. The lingo was like a foreign language, the caller boards as indecipherable to the uninitiated as a Czech train schedule and the players as wary of you as border guards. You are, after all, competition. Fortunately I went with a pro who not only translated for me, but was skilled enough to watch both our cards at once. I still managed to completely bungle one of my games which had us both in tears we were laughing so hard (this is not unusual, we cry from laughing at work too) but I definitely caught on faster under her good guidance.

In games of chance I am a loser. I was certain this would be my edge in winning the "UnBingo" -where you win for not having even a single number on your card called-but even that was beyond me. I still had a great evening listening to the guy across the table muttering and cursing with every close call, the collective disgruntlement every time someone called "Bingo!", watching the mad dashes for the canteen line and the tables lined with bingo dabbers and lucky charms.

I also got to meet my friend's cats. She's allergic to them but she loves them more than anything in the world, with the possible exception of her son (and I do mean possible). They're both beautiful creatures- Stewy is the reason "'fraidy cat" is in the English lexicon and Carter is placid and softer than anything else I've ever touched in my life- so I can see why she would never give them up. Still, I consider this a testament to her great big beautiful heart.

I spend most of the hours of my life with family and co-workers, none of whom I got to choose, so I am amazed at how often I find friends among them; good people, with big hearts, who like me or love me despite, or possibly because of, all my idiosyncrasies and foibles. Calculating the odds, I say, that's pretty lucky.