Post Pokerum Depression

So it's Saturday night, the weather's changed, an electric red sunset has beamed itself upon the city, night has fallen, and my wife has her buddies (Robin, Julie, and Tracey) over here playing poker. That is, poker in the broadest sense of the word: they play the weirdest, most confuzzled games, with, say, jacks and threes being wild, but only if there happens to be a red, electric sunset.

I'd join in but a) I don't want to be a 5th wheel in her regular girlfriends par-tay, b) my poker skills, shall we say, lack polish, and c) I have to get up at 4:30 am tomorrow so I can join another group of friends and ride my bike in the Long Beach marathon. Bikers start the course at 6am, the real runners start at 7:30. (I don't run, it's not in my contract, but I can handle the fairly wimpy 26 miles on a bike).

I sincerely hope my wife wins a few bucks, if only to help defray the cost of all the goddam relief efforts we've donated to this year. Oh, did I say "goddam"? I meant "worthy".