Euchre, or something like it.

It's 7:00 on a saturday morning, and a man's thoughts turn to Euchre.

Not true.   It turned to Euchre yesterday.  
On the way to family game night at my daughter's school.

"It's family game night", I thought to myself.   And in my family, for many generations, "family game" equals.... euchre.

For those of you who don't know what euchre is..... I pity your ignorance.  a crucial part of your upbringing was missed.  You are incomplete.  How sad.

No, wait.     For those of you that don't know what euchre is, it's a card game.  Typically played by two teams of two people.   It can be adjusted and modified to play three man, or even two man euchre.
But for the sake of this post, we'll just stick with the traditional 2 on 2.

And this game has been the centerpiece of my family's get-togethers since before I was born.
I learned to play when I was... eight years old, I think.   Over some winter holiday when my not-very-healthy grandparents were visiting, and... it was how we could interact with them.  They were not up for much else.    And since it was the one thing that everyone did on both sides of the family when they were together, it seemed like a good skill to obtain.

And it was.   We had more fun with grandma Murray that morning than I can recall ever having before, or after.  And we were in the club.  We had the tools to more fully participate in all subsequent family visits.  Doors were opened.   Interactions with grandparents and aunts and uncles took on greater depth.

Laughter, always laughter, ensued.  And continues to ensue, whenever the cards come out...

Today, 37 years after my first game,  memories of random euchre game moments, quotes from my grandma, a woman who at age 90 could still hold her own at the euchre table, more so than in many aspects of her life; family legend.... thick with euchre references.

That one time, 20 years ago, when so and so euchred my loan.  
"Aunty Missy Cards"
"Dad could go alone with a hand consisting of a Subway punch card, two uno cards, a beer coaster and a get out of jail free card..."

And I delight in the fact that my nieces and nephews have picked the game up and are carrying the tradition on...

Little known fact about euchre.   It's magic.
24 cards can generate untold amounts of conversation and laughter.   Not just for the four people playing, but for the numerous others who are sitting around, watching, kibitzing.   Because when those 24 cards are in play, it's where the fun is.

On a non-family side note:   It's magic does not end at family gatherings.     I was delighted, upon going away to college, to discover that euchre was not an "Ohio thing", and that lots of people for SE MI grew up playing it as well.   It was nothing short of amazing how the same game, the same 24 cards, could put you in a room with virtual strangers, and in moments you were laughing with new friends.
It all started with someone sticking their head into your doorway.
"We need a 4th for euchre.  do you play?"
F*ck yes I play!    

And strangers become friends,

Anyhow, back to family game night...

Peeling it all back, removing the cards, the table, the ritual of it all, it boils down to tradition.
"Euchre"  doesn't HAVE to be... euchre.

But I hope, for all my friends out there, that you grew up a "Euchre" in your family.
And my hope for all who read this is that they pass their euchre along and down and keep it going.

My daughter just walked in, clutching a bear, all sleepy-eyed.
Good morning, peanut.

"What are you writing about?"
"Euchre."
"What's that?"
"It's a card game.  You're gonna love it in a couple of years..."

It was too good of a deal to pass up....

Happy New Years, everyone.

We happened to be walking past a new consignment shop this past saturday.
(4 days ago.  4 LONG days ago...)

And there, in the window of the shop, was an extremely cute headboard / footboard with matching bedside table.    It was perfect for Fiona's room.

Fiona's 5.5 years old, and has been on us recently to buy her a bedside table.  She likes the ones in our room, and apparently feels she would benefit from having a similar convenience next to her own bed.

So, there the pieces were in the window.    Whilst we had not planned to furniture shop that afternoon, we also have learned to maintain flexibility in such matters, over time.

"I'm almost positive I've seen these exact pieces in __________ catalog"  Wendy mentions quietly to me as we enter the store.
"They're wicked expensive."

So we look around a bit, find a very nice guy to help us, we looked at the pieces, and at the extremely reasonable prices on them, taked the guy down a bit, and ended up purchasing the bed and table.

How could we not?  It was just too good a deal to pass up.

"Does it come with rails?"  I asked before we left.

Nope, but they should attach to any standard frame.......

We stop by a hardware store near the consignment shop, a ndget the requisite bolts, nuts and washers for it.

We get it home, and go online and see the frame in the catalog, and congratulate ourselves on getting such a great deal.

And.... the metal frame that Fiona's bed is sitting on, does not have footboard attachments.

Strike one.

No problem, I hate the metal frame in the spare room, we'll buy a new one for Fiona's room, and use hers in the spare room.  

6 phone calls later, I find a place that both sells the frame I need, AND has it in stock.  And it's only.... 30 minutes away.     But closes in 10 minutes.

Sunday morning, I took a drive to the bed store that had the frame, bought it (for more than the headboard and footboard cost me) and realized I'd need narrower bolts....   Stopped at another hardware store on the way home from the bed store, made sure I had the right bolts for the new frame, and got home.

Only to discover that the large holes that were pre-drilled on the head/footboard did not line up with the new bed frame, and therefore would not line up with any standard  bed frame.

Strike two.

What to do, what to do... ponder...ponder.... ponder.....     I set up the new frame, it's easy peasy, and put Fiona's bed on it.  At least she'll be able to sleep.   I took her old frame to the spare room, swapped it out with the frame-I-hate, and took solace in the fact that at least something worked out just the way I pictured it.  

After much deliberation and lots of swearing, I decide that there's one more thing I can try, before taking an ax to our too-good-of-a-deal-to-pass-up.   I can measure new frame holes against the wood of the head/footboard, and very carefully drill new, small holes, attaching the boards to the frame in a way that would keep them from being weight-bearing.   Attach them for strictly cosmetic reasons, in other words.

I got a pencil, lined it all up, realized it would be close but  juuuuuuusssssttttt doable, as long as I did not allow them to be be load bearing.   No problem......

Went to a 3rd hardware store for the narrow bolts (and nuts and washers); the drill bit that would be exactly the right size; and a wee-tiny little wrench for tightening the wee tiny nuts onto the wee tiny bolts.    Get 'em all home, and.... the battery on my drill is dead.


#$^($%&(#$^( GOD #($%^&(#$%&(@#$^(GOAT F(#$%^&(#$^(#% SUCKER!!!

I had used the drill for, like... 2 minutes, 3 days earlier, and didn't pop the battery out and plug it back in.....

Strike 3.  
(At least.  I'm not counting each individual trip to a hardware store as a separate strike...)


Fast forward to today.   The drill's fully charged, the holes are drilled as planned, everything lines up, and.... the bolts are too long.   I chose the side of caution when I bought them, and... they won't work.

Back to the hardware store, shorter bolts, come home, slap it together and.... there it is, looking cute in Fiona's room, and she's terribly excited about the whole thing.

And we are too, because it was simply too good of a deal to pass up.

(If I don't think about the fact that I've spent 4x more on frames and gas and bolts and drill bits and wrenches and band aids and the $$$ my time is worth.... )

Not sure about y'all, but this is, sadly, not that unusual.     I've dozens of tiny plastic bags of various nails and nuts and such from hardware stores all over south suburban chicago in my tool box, each trip costing me less than $5, and therefore not worth a special trip just to return them.

But it's a new year, and a new me, and I've already been back to the first of those stores, with my little plastic bag o' bolts.

"You want to RETURN these?"  they ask, with a certain astonishment
Yep.  here's the receipt.

"And here's your... $3.80."  they say in return with a "Don't spend it all in one place..." undertone.  

I put the most of the refund right into a donation canister for some charity, on the counter at the hardware store.

"Thanks!"  I reply cheerfully, as I stuffed most of it into the canister.

 I haven't felt this good in 4 days.....