There's a rumor going around that I've been beaten at Scrabble. Let me explain how it all went down. Grandpa and Grandma D came for a little visit. We had a great time and Grandpa enjoyed making fun of me for bringing my own pot to Toby's Tavern to pick up my fresh mussels. That's just how we do things here. Toby's has the best Penn Cove mussels and they're under 3 bucks a pound, ya just gotta bring yer own pot to pick 'em up. But I digress. We had a ton of mussels, dinner, wine, and salad with blue cheese. I felt a migraine coming on from the bad combo of red wine and blue cheese, but I felt this would not handicap me in a little game of Scrabble. The game was going on and on, and YES, Grandpa was ahead by 23 points, and I conceded by way of falling on the board and messing up the game. As is my good sportsman-like way when I'm losing a game. 4 hours later, I am in total misery, 8 hours later and I'm in the ER for pain and nausea relief that I couldn't get from my own impressive medicine cabinet. They couldn't get a vein (veins shrink up when you get a migraine), so both arms are black and blue with useless needle pricks, but I finally got a lovely narcotic and anti-nausea drug and was back home in no time. The timing wasn't bad, because G and G were able to stay with the kids while my poor husbad shuttled me while I muttered, "just let me die" over and over, to Whidbey General, where we've both seen enough of to last a lifetime.

The point of this LONG story is to give my side, as the story that's being told on the east side of the Mountain is that Granpa beat me so bad at Scrabble it did me in and sent me to the Emergency room because I couldn't handle the loss. REMATCH, Dad.