Mom, Brenda, and I sat down to a quaint game of Scrabble yesterday afternoon.

The skies began clouding over in the inky puffs of the black sheep's wool, the thunderstorm at their heels. After a busy morning, we were not disposed to exertion, but it was not yet time to order dinner. Such a conundrum, this did pose. Scrabble seemed the only lifeline, the only rope that would lift us from the heavy-eyed sloth and into the promise land of Chinese takeout.

As I always feel the need to do, I prefaced that I am not very good at Scrabble, have not played it much at all. My aunt and my mother alike scoffed at me. "A word smith like you?" one of them taunted, clearly unbelieving of my claim. I shrugged it off and took my place at the board. They would see soon enough.

Sarah, my college roomy, had Scrabble. One night, we played with Sacré, the international student from Africa whose native tongue was not English at all. He laughed goodheartedly and asked us to go easy on him. As the game went on, it was clear that I was no match for the African, nor was I for the French major for that matter, either. Sacré kept thinking that I was losing on purpose, for it seemed impossible to suck to such a degree naturally.

My labyrinthine letter-weaving of "hi", "yes", and "ha" impressed them yesterday before I took the cake with "ex". My mother-in-law and her significant other are Scrabble players, or were at one time, anyway. She kept telling me that I should come over and play with them—taking note of my wider verbal vocabulary, no doubt. I've managed to keep myself free of such embarrassment. "No, Randy's really good!" Milly would try to coax, thinking I thought their competition paltry. If only. If an international student can kick my butt to China and back, I didn't need to try my hand against two Southerners—for it is all too obvious that I fare poorly against the foreign-tongued.

But, as there are so many quandaries in life, so there existed another yesterday as I proceeded to win the game. After my string of two- and three-letter words—after watching my mother and aunt lay five- and six-letter words time and time again—my win rocked the neighborhood. "That hardly seems fair..." I said softly, in wonder. Snorts rose in none-too-gentle cadence, and I tried and failed to hide a smirk.