Poker

Mentally, I grimaced.

One of my bimonthly rituals is a poker game over at my buddy Dave's house. No fancy games, no wild cards. Just five card draw, jacks or better to open. It's a great time to b.s., smoke cigars and just forget about the outside world.

But ever since Michelle bugged me into teaching her how to play, she wants to play every chance she can. She plays on line all the time (free sites, of course; at least she hasn't tried to 'borrow' my credit card to play for real stakes), but still...

I can think of a lot more interesting things to do with one of (or all of!) my stepdaughters than a poker game. They'll probably be yammering through out the game, not paying attention to their cards, and end up getting pissed at ME when I get pissed at them for not taking the game seriously.

I look over at Michelle; she's giving me the big puppy dog eyes.

"Fine, I'll go along with poker."

Michelle squeals with excitement, giving me a tight hug. She runs and grabs a deck of cards as I rummage around in one of my kitchen 'junk' drawers, looking for a couple of boxes of poker chips I remember buying about six months back. Suzy watches me for a second, then points out that we could use the big jar of spare change sitting on the kitchen counter.