Hubby loves to play cards. I, on the other hand, am not a card player -- especially euchre, which is his favorite. Of course, this man refuses to lose, even at Candyland, so I don't know that I'd play cards with him anyway, so he usually plays with a different partner.
He has played poker at church, once a year, for the past few years, on the weekend of our fish fry. Presbyterians gone wild, I tell you, and they didn't even have a Session meeting to approve it. It's just kind of a part of the security detail.
See, the guy who heads up the frying of the fish is a 70-something guy, who still carries shrapnel in his legs from the Great War. This guy dodged more than one bullet, so he's not afraid to be one of the guards of the fish fryers and the tent, so he sleeps in the tent every year. Sleeps on one of the tables, even.
You know, there's a special place in heaven for a guy who sleeps on a table, just to keep the fish fry safe.
The hubby, always a fretter, decided a couple of years ago that he would join him, as much for the comaraderie as for his concern for Bill's safety, so he spends the night there too, and they play cards. I used to rent a double across the parking lot, and kept my ebay stuff there. The first year, I came out of the double and heard the guys getting rowdy over their game of poker. I think that was the year that the hub walked away with 15 bucks, which was the total pot, all in nickels, dimes and quarters. Last year, another of the guys won - a guy who was there for the game, but not game enough to sleep on the tables.
So this year, hubby and I were getting ready to go home and get his sleeping bag, when one of the neighbors stopped by. He wanted to offer them access to his house, should the weather turn bad, or if they needed anything. Dan, being Dan, invited him over to play a friendly game of cards. "We just play for coinage. Do you have some nickels?" Neighbor promptly declined, sheepishly admitting that he has never really played poker, and doesn't really fully comprehend the game.
"Oh," said the hubby, "then bring half dollars. Oye. That's my guy.
So, the hubby is sleeping on a table tonight, and hopefully this year, he let the senior citizen win the money, but knowing my man, I wouldn't hold my breath. And, it being late and all -- and the fact that I had to go tearing down the street in my nightgown tonight, after the butthead dog took off out of the yard, I was too lazy to go looking for a vintage poker shirt. If you know of one, let me know, but I figured I'd share the fantastic vintage matchbook shirt that Christopher Walken wore in Hairspray. Nothing fishy about it.