Waiting For the Silver Bird

It's about 8:45 AM local time in Phoenix, Arizona. I'm very happy to be inside the airport where the air-conditioning seems to be working nicely. The current temperature is about 95 degrees at the moment. It's supposed to get up to around 112 before the day is over. On the other hand, the temperature at the Boise Airport is right around 70 degrees, with the high projected to hit 88. That's more like it, and I'm ready to get home.

Interestingly, Prescott (where I drove in from this morning) is showing a current temperature of 91 degrees, with a projected high of 90 degrees. I guess they're expecting a cooling trend?

Anyway, my visit with my mother was a general success, unless we're talking about playing Scrabble. If Scrabble happens to be the subject, then she'll be regaling you with tales of elder abuse and offspring treachery. We played six games last night; she only was victorious once and that was only by a two point margin.

I have never been able to beat her at that game until my last visit, when the table of fortune turned in my favor and I took seven out of seven games. I don't think that memory will ever be erased, and our recent battle wasn't much better. We lost track of the total number of games played, but she might have had four wins out of 12 games.

I wish that I could say that my true genius potential has finally come to roost in that space where people always eluded that a brain was supposed to be. Sadly, this isn't the case. There are some days when two players have an evenly matched battle, where sharp wits and word knowledge truly makes the difference. Then there are the other days when one person seems to get all the good tiles, and the other person gets stuck with total garbage that just can't be played anywhere. This is how her luck has been during our tournaments, while I've just blindly backed into great scoring opportunities that just shouldn't be happening game after game... after game.

I know I should feel guilty about this sudden unbalanced winning streak. Let's face it, it's more fun when you really have to work at beating your opponent on an evenly matched playing field. If this had been a golf game, I would have been a first time golfer knocking off holes-in-one at each tee, while she being a long time professional golfer would have been whacking the ball into the rough on each shot.

Every time the guilt starts setting in, I remind myself of the long running history of how, every time I played the game with her, I was mercilessly slaughtered. Suddenly I don't feel so bad... even if it takes absolutely lopsided luck to put myself into the winner's circle.

The only thing is that this lucky streak won't last... and a smart person would quit while they're ahead. "Duh... see ya next time, Mom!"