Mansion, schmansion

Last weekend heralded the second meeting of the Saturday Night Card Club, a fancy name for four college pals huddled into a booth at a 24-hour restaurant, drinking watered-down coffee and engaging in five hours of friendly competition.

Spades was the game of choice Saturday, which meant that hours before our rendezvous, I was racing to recall the rules. Fortunately, Matt was my partner, and he's so well-versed in Spades that I thought we really stood a chance. "Don't you remember Spades? Didn't you play this with us in college?" Johanna asked me. I told her yes, I remembered, but didn't mention that Matt was almost always my partner and almost always carried the game for both of us. But Saturday was different: A power play by Paul and Johanna, along with a bungle on my part, put them ahead right at the end of the game. Then they gloated. And gloated. And gloated.

At some point in the conversation -- some time between hours 2 and 3, the topic of Casa Simone became the topic of discussion. "Don't you live in, like, a mansion?" Johanna asked, eliciting a laugh and a raised eyebrow. A mutual friend, who'd dropped off a package at my house last year, later told Johanna I had the biggest house on the street with a five-car garage and a lake in the back. Oh, and that the house had been a wedding gift from my parents.

Let's review: It wasn't a wedding gift -- they were still living here when we got married. We have a two-car garage and no lake (although there's a hole in the back yard with some fish in it). And I'm fairly certain my house is not the biggest on the street. In fact, the description of our house was so wrong that my first thought was my friend had been at the wrong place. But she did indeed drop off a package here, leaving only one explanation: She must be blind.

But that didn't stop the ribbing, and after a few hours, Johanna and Matt proposed a way for them to find out for themselves: They'd play cards at Casa Simone Saturday. I told them they'd be disappointed -- I'm proud of it, but it's no mansion. Either way, Paul and I have a lot to clean between now and Saturday, and I also must figure out what to cook, etc. Thrill.

I'm so glad Johanna suggested we do this. It's been like turning back the clock to a time when we were young(er) and stupid(er) and had enough time to play cards at work.

P.S. Today is anniversary number four, so chances are Paul and I will head out to celebrate (or stay in to celebrate?) instead of cleaning the house tonight. Hasta maņana!