The Hand Writing Game

I felt way better today. Not so much in the morning, but as I write this around midnight I do feel almost good. It was a tough couple of days, but I’m ready for work.

Enough of that. The only interesting thing that happened today was what I’m labeling the hand writing game. It is kinda derived from an early episode of How I Met Your Mother. It was the one where Barney is doing magic. The trick involves him catching a little fireball and opening his hand to reveal the writing on his hand. The writing is the previous words of another character. Like so . . .

So I can’t do magic, neither can my sisters, but we decide to do the hand writing part. We each wrote a secret saying on our hands and the first person to catch one of the other persons say that saying would be the winner. One of the few caveats was that the writing couldn’t be an answer to a direct question. For example, you couldn’t write Yes on your hand and ask another person a Yes or No question. Or, you couldn’t write 5 o’clock on your hand and ask for the time.

For my youngest sister, it was an easy choice. I wrote You’re a bully on my hand because she says that to me whenever I mess with her. The middle sister was a harder choice. I thought about that one for almost an hour. I settled with No Way. That was because I figured I could get the youngest first, by bullying her of course, then I would explain to the other one that I didn’t have one for her because I couldn’t write with my left hand. She wouldn’t believe me and say No Way.

That was the plan. It didn’t work out that way.

What happened was this. I was on Yahoo! and I read the story about the Honey Boo Boo people. It said that the mother puts the money from the reality TV show in trust funds for the kids and they live off what the dad makes as a contractor. The mother said she wanted her kids to see that she was more responsible than those other reality TV stars who spent all their money. I call my sister to my room and tell her about the story.

She says No Way and I say BAM!

I won.

My own experience and development deepen every day my conviction that our moral progress may be measured by the degree in which we sympathize with individual suffering and individual joy. -George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans), novelist (1819-1880)


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