Compared to others’ endeavors, my poker chip issue over this past weekend is so insignificant. In my crazy world, however, I’m quite irritated. So much so, it warrants space on my blog today. Granted, had any of my friends been available today, you wouldn’t be reading these words. I’d be buying them lunch instead – while describing the injustice visited upon me yesterday eve. As is stands, you, the reader, are it. Congrats!
Strewn about in the picture are “big boy” chips. The (ahem) friendly game we play progresses to the point where these are the only ones in play. One must be 1.) diligent and somewhat skillful to be at the table this late in the game, and 2.) have a decent number of chips to remain competitive. I don’t always qualify on both counts … that is, even if I make it that far. I really do play to have fun. Really.
I do have one teeny-tiny “thing”. A hang-up. An obsession. A quirk. A “something” I NEVER should have told my friends – one in particular. EVER. A mistake years ago that I so regret to this day. A friend who would NOT be gracing my lunch table at this moment unless an apology would be forthcoming … for knocking over my exquisitely organized stacks of chips.
DON’T EVER KNOCK OVER MY CHIP STACKS.
In case that wasn’t clear, I don’t want my chip stacks touched. Ever. Most don’t mind the occasional bump or nudge. I do. The stacks must have the same number of chips and cannot be friendly with other colors when available. There are few exceptions to this rule. Overall, however, don’t touch my chips and I’ll be pleasant. Accidents happen … cool. Do it intentionally, and we got friendly problems, my friends.
Nothing to start a congressional inquiry over, but we’ll have a discussion. Enter last night.
I had more chips than most. Forty-three to be exact. Ten stacks of four and one stack of three on top. Actually, all ten stacks of four arranged as such: four across the bottom touching side by side, then three on top of them, then two, then one, forming a perfect triangle …. with the remaining three perfectly placed on top of said triangle. Since the required number of chips to play a hand was a multiple of four, my plan was in place.
Into the kitchen for a snack.
Exiting the kitchen, I spied what appeared to be the scattered remains of my masterpiece … amid the quiet murmurs of satisfied tomfoolery. Backs to my sight, I knew shenanigans were afoot … and, as well, the instigator. My friend, John.
It was ok. John is a great friend. Most of the chips were his, anyway. I won them earlier. It was masterful, so I understood the temptation to upend my stack. He needed to touch some chips. I had some. He had none.🤣. I re-stacked the chaos, refocused, and with unbridled determination, plowed forward.
We play two shifts. That was shift #1. I won. Shift #2 didn’t work out so well. John may have won.
I exited before knowing who did…but not without guarding my stacks like the precious little piles of organized UNTOUCHABLE chips they were.
I feel better. This has been a good hour for me. My emotional chips are all lined up and in good order now. I’m glad to have shared this table with you. It’s never a gamble showing you my hand because you’ll never tip over my stack. Even if you do, accidentally, it’s no big deal. We’ll shuffle up and deal again.
Here’s hoping your day is all Aces. Stack up love where you can.
DougHugs 