We played an amazing game of Scrabble last night. For Nick it began with a bang: his first word was a 7-letter one (sediment.) Tough way to start. But I started to recover on my next turn, with the word "vex" on a double (and the "ex" on its own double.) I thought I'd lose the game, but I maintained focus and doggedness, even though my letters were uncooperative. I had to sacrifice some of them with the word "kiwis" for which I pretty much only got face value. But my penultimate play was "buys" on a triple that also made "gay" into "gays", and I sewed it up.
Bi now, gay later. Sorry -- it was too easy.
Tough, tight game throughout. Nick was so disappointed that the word "skirtly" wasn't a word. Skirtly! I love it. He was crestfallen; skirtly could have turned the game around, had it only been a word. But the English language -- so porous, so rich, so diverse -- failed him. And he was stuck at the end with a Q but by then the damage was done.
I remember reading that true Scrabble players never blame their letters. I think I read that in Stefan Fatsis's book about competitive Scrabble. So I try to work with what I've got (or to mix metaphors to play the hand I'm dealt.) But sometimes the Scrabble gods seem so vengeful and deliberate that it's hard to maintain good cheer. But I keep trying.