The Game’s Afoot!

I’m easily amused. It doesn’t take a whole lot to make me chuckle, which may be one of the reasons I enjoy animated movies so much. And why I’ve stayed married to Ed so long. (Laughing at or with him? Debatable.) I don’t rely solely on sitcoms or cartoons, because there are a gazillion things that make me smile. Sometimes, I make up my own games.

One of those games involves the remote’s pause button. If you’ve never done so, hit pause while you’re watching a recorded something or other. You can do it with a live show, but it’s faster the other way. We record two game shows…America Says & Common Knowledge…so we can watch them during dinner and compete to see who gets the most answers right. (Guess who normally wins.) Catching John Michael Higgins or Joey Fatone in an awkward, frozen pose can be hilarious. Also comical—Word underlined Fatone, because it’s not in the dictionary. Suggested replacement? Fat one. Sure hope Joey doesn’t find out Word is badmouthing him.

I love game shows. Daytime TV for me is the Game Show Network, while late night normally finds me glued to Investigation Discovery. I haven’t come up with any way to make ID comical, but it is good for research. Also, sad and scary but we’ll save that for another post.

If you haven’t watched America Says, it’s hilarious. Teams are given a question/category and points are awarded for correct answers. For instance, they might ask, “If I were stranded on a desert island, I’d want…” They’re given the first letter(s) of 7 things. So, it’s kind of like Family Feud with hints.

We’re not content to just watch the show. We play along, and I’ve invented a secondary game. There’s always a pause after Michael reads the question, which gives me enough time to come up with my own answers. My goal is to rattle off all seven before I see the hints. Yeah, probably won’t ever happen. I’ve “won” the bonus round, but that’s not seven questions. I do have my limits.

I’ve been playing games most of my life. Which either means I have an overactive imagination, or I’m nutso. I’ll let you decide for yourself which is right. Just don’t tell me. As a kid, I used to lie in the front yard, using my hunting dog as a pillow, and look for images in clouds. We all did that, right? Now that I live in Texas and I’m MUCH older, that doesn’t happen. Not only would Ed call the paramedics if he saw me out there, but there are scorpions, fire ants, and unbearable heat. Plus, we no longer have a dog. Cats make horrible pillows.

Does that mean I don’t look for cloud images anymore? Yes and no. It’s hard not to notice some of them, but I don’t actively seek images out. Our master bathroom floor is another story. The beige/brown tile has a marble-like look, and if you’re sitting on the toilet, there’s a veritable wealth of fun staring you in the face.

Depending on how I tilt my head, one of the patterns becomes an elephant’s eyes, ears, and trunk. Kind of like the “Kilroy was here” drawing, but with an elephant. Ed is sometimes the adult in our relationship, so when I made him sit on the toilet and play “Find the Elephant,” he couldn’t. He said he did, but he lies. One time, I found Jesus hiding in the tile. I’ve looked and haven’t found it again, thank goodness. I’m very comfortable with Him in my life, but not so much when He’s watching me on the toilet.

Ed made up his own game. If you ask, he’ll vehemently deny it, but I know better. I cook, he does the dishes. (Excellent husband!) He also unloads the dishwasher and puts everything away. Only problem…it’s seldom in the place where it belongs. So, he does dishes and I do a scavenger hunt. I swear I heard him snickering one time when the potato masher ended up in a drawer instead of the tool caddy. (For the gazillionth time.) In case your hubby does the same thing, don’t bother threatening him with a kitchen knife. The game is apparently more important than his life, so it won’t work.

Dogs have better PR managers than cats. If you ask which is easier to train to do tricks, nobody will answer cat. That’s true, up to a point. Cats are smart enough to know they don’t have to roll over, play dead, or fetch to get fed. However, we had one cat who loved playing fetch. I took a kid’s sock, dropped in two small bells, and secured it with a knot. If I tossed that sock for an hour, he’d bring it back. I normally wore out before he did.

Since he died, my cat games are now limited to a laser light. Not much works as a pick-me-up like one of those lights, and I have a great one. You don’t have to hold the button down to keep it going, so I can torment, er… play with the cats longer. Bobby’s clairvoyant. If I just pick up that light, he magically appears. Kind of like Snick knows we’re eating a Breakstone cottage cheese. As soon as we pull off the top, he’s right there. Like he is when Ed gets ice cream. We have weird cats. Luckily, they like to play games as much as I do.

Life’s too short to take it so seriously. You’ll drive yourself wacko if you let all the BS get you down. If you spend all your time watching the news, instead of trying to walk through your house with your eyes closed, you’ll get more than a banged shin. You’re a prime candidate for a heart attack. If you simply stop suddenly and pretend someone pushed the pause button, you’re sure to chuckle at whatever ridiculous position you’re in.

God didn’t intend for us to spend our lives like Eeyore, otherwise He wouldn’t have made camels, designed clouds to look like bunny rabbits, or sent an “Elephant was here” to my bathroom floor. I think it pleases Him to see us giggling at some random moment. At least I hope it does, because I spend a lot of time doing that. Since I like to make Him smile too, if you need me…I’ll be looking for a kid sock I can make into a cat toy. Let the games begin!

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