Toes

Husband/partner and I have been married for almost 23 years.  Strange things happen after that amount of time.  I am on some strong cardiac medicines which have many side effects; one of which is sleep disturbance.  I was awakened at 5 AM this morning extremely painful toes on my left foot.  I thought I had bumped them yesterday while working barefoot in the back yard.  The longer I laid in bed, the worse the pain became so I got up to examine toes.  They looked like my usual toes.  As I stayed up for a while, the pain gradually disappeared and I went back to bed and, thankfully, to sleep.

When I finally groggily got up, husband/partner was clanking around the bedroom.  I said, "Boy, do I have some weirdness to tell you about".  He interrupted (he always interrupts me) and said, "You know, the other night at dinner I wanted to tell this story and I didn't get a chance."  The dinner was with 2 other retired  nurses (friend/partner Paula, friend/partner Jay, and his mother) and we were trading medical horror stories.  Husband/partner proceeded to tell me this story:

"One day, I was making rounds with the residents and attending physicians.  We walked into a lady's room and asked her how she was doing.  She said, "I only have nine toes".  Sure enough, the medical student determined that she was correct.  She said, "I had ten yesterday".  Further questioning brought out the fact that said toe had been gangrenous black for a month and the lady was a diabetic.  It was presumed that the toe had died and fallen off somewhere."

It's called synchronicity when something so bizarre happens.  I said to husband/partner, "How did you  know my weirdness was about my toes?"  He replied, "What are you talking about?"  So, my weirdness with my toes just became even stranger yet.

What I want to know is, if he can subconsciously figure out that I had a toe problem during the night, why the heck can't he figure out what I'm bidding??

PREDICTABILITY

Husband/partner had a game with mysterioso Kim last Tuesday night and scored big - first overall with a 60 plus percentage.  Prior to the first hand, Kim provided a quick explanation of his unusual approach to the game which husband/partner absorbed and, obviously, carried out well.  After the game, he said to Kim, "I'll put our card into the computer program and print one out for you in case we play again".  Kim said, "Don't bother.  We will be doing something different next time."

Kim has told me in the past that I am too predictable.  I believe the advice went something like this: "Psych or something once in a while - it would be good for you".  My approach to the game has always been that sound bidding keeps partner from guessing what you might have and also, keeps partners.  I don't know how to psych anyway.  I play different systems with different partners but nothing as different as what Kim plays.  The conventional wisdom around the club is, ignore his bidding and bid your hand because you won't be able to figure out what he is doing even if you ask for an explanation.  I have found this to be true.

My stability has always been my greatest asset.  People have always said, "You have a good head on your shoulders."  For most of my life, I would have traded that for a "You look gorgeous" but, sadly, I would know it to be a lie anyway so I take comfort in my apparent stability.  Who knew it would become yet another bridge liability?

Kim wins way more games than I do.  I need to think about this.  I wonder if there is a program to teach psyching in bridge.  Off to google.

The Other Side

The good news is, your blogger made it through the procedure and out of the hospital, much to her surprise so, there is no bad news.  My doctor wondered why I showed up if I thought I was going to expire on the table.  The answer is, the same reason I play bridge; expect the worst, hope for the best, and be pleasantly surprised when things actually work out the way you want them to.

When I lay down a dummy with 5 points and 2 small trump, my partner, Paula, always says in a very delighted voice, "Thank you, partner, that's lovely".  I call her Tigger, after the always happy hyperactive tiger in Winnie the Poo.  I look at a dummy and, usually in no trump, wonder, sometimes aloud, how in the world I am going to make it.  Then, I roll 6.  She calls me Eeyore, after the clinically depressed donkey friend of Winnie the bear. 

Last week, my 99 year old (would have been 100 in July), mother in law, Reba Hoffman, died quietly in her bed.  She said she didn't want to be 100 and has been asking for the past few years why she was still here on earth to which partner/husband and I had no real answer.  We had to cancel some team games we had planned in the Kerrville sectional to take her back to Philadelphia to be buried next to her beloved husband.  Again, the good wishes and support from everyone in the bridge community meant the world to both of us.

Thanks to all of you and we are so happy to be a part of this group.