My Brain
Our Saturday Autumnal Adventure in Applesauce took place courtesy of our friend the Wordsmith, who is smart and funny, cooks gorgeously, and does not suffer fools. She also loves to play games like Scrabble, and we played a wordy game with her while we waited for the applesauce to simmer down. I was expecting that the Wordsmith would win, but I really had no idea how very badly I was going to lose. At the end of the game, this is how the points fell out:
Wordsmith - 465
Cook - 263
Me - 212
This was utterly humiliating. I used to pride myself on being good at word games. Cook beats me more often than not, but I have still managed to maintain my self-image as a wordy sort of person. Either my brain has rotted due to senility and disuse, or I am not a wordy sort of person at all. More of a grunty and pointy sort of person, apparently.
Wordsmith - 465
Cook - 263
Me - 212
This was utterly humiliating. I used to pride myself on being good at word games. Cook beats me more often than not, but I have still managed to maintain my self-image as a wordy sort of person. Either my brain has rotted due to senility and disuse, or I am not a wordy sort of person at all. More of a grunty and pointy sort of person, apparently.
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