I hope you are having a good morning, dear readers. Like I was explaining to you yesterday, I was baking a cake and going over to my buddy Hiram’s for bridge. Well, as dedicated reader of this “lifestyle column” Alter Ebro had predicted, there was an error in the recipe I was using for the cake. You see, I got the recipe over the phone, and the missus said “marjoram” when she meant to say “margarine”. The more I think about it, the surer I am: She definitely said “marjoram” and it wasn’t a hearing lapse on my part. Anyhow, the cake turned out inedible, so we had to stop and pick up an Entenmann’s on the way to Hiram’s. I selected the “Louisiana Crunch” flavor, which seemed most similar to my own cake (minus the marjoram).
By the time we got there, I was really itching to play some bridge. We paired off stags versus hens and dealt the cards. Now for those of you who don’t know how to play bridge, I won’t go into the full set of rules here, but let it be known that you don’t want to open up the bidding on a lousy card. But that’s exactly what my missus did. I knew right then and there that she was going to be what’s known in the world of bridge as the “dummy” in the game.
Luckily for her, Hiram’s wife Dot’s angina flared up so we had to call the game off. If we hadn’t, me and Hiram would’ve taken them for all they were worth. And, wouldn’t you know it, by the time we got home, Hiram had left a message on my answering machine saying that Dot had just had a bout of acid indigestion, and it wasn’t her angina after all.
Until next time!