Sunday, September 30, 2012

If Only...

If only I didn't love dachshunds. If I didn't love dachshunds, I wouldn't have one and I wouldn't have taken her to the vet last Monday. And if I hadn't taken her to the vet last Monday, I could have gone to "Loaded Baked Potato Day" at the Bridge Center. It was a roaring success, I'm told.

It was the NLM's day to shine. Many times the Life Masters have invited us to share in their bounty (except when they didn't) and it was high time we hosted a luncheon for a change. So Monday was the day all were invited by the NLM group to "get loaded at the Bridge Center" (the potatoes...get the potatoes loaded).

Four kindly volunteers roasted eight dozen spuds and still others brought toppings, both traditional and the not-so-much. Cheeses, chives, bacon and butter; salsa, broccoli, cauliflower and lettuce; chili, barbecue and...tuna fish? Complete with dessert and salad, not a person went hungry. 

But what about the beverage, you ask? Served with the taters was "Rebecca's Bourbon Slush" a most delightful drink that I had the pleasure of trying a few years ago at the Center. Recipe follows, but let me just say it was a big hit. People loved it. In fact, one of my sources said that some people loved it too much. Apparently several partnerships weren't playing up to their usual high level after a few glasses of slush, said my source, so I can only conclude that the potatoes weren't the only things getting loaded at the Bridge Center last Monday. 



Rebecca's Bourbon Slush

2 cups hot tea
1/2 cup sugar
6 ounce frozen orange juice
6 ounce frozen limeade
12 ounce frozen lemonade
6 cups water
2 cups bourbon (or 1 1/2 cups and 1/2 cup amaretto)

Dissolve sugar in hot tea. Mix all ingredients together and freeze. Stir every 6 to 8 hours for two days before serving.













Saturday, September 22, 2012

Talk About the Dangerous Hand!!

As mentioned in the last post, one of the culprits who changed polite, manicured-nails, martini bridge to serious, conventioned-laden, headache bridge was Ely Culbertson. Following Harold Vanderbilt's bright idea in 1925 to change auction bridge to contract bridge by tweaking the score and making the game riskier, Culbertson took it upon himself to promote it.

One of the tools he used was his magazine Bridge World. According to Maggie Simony's book The Bridge Table, by the November 1929 edition, the magazine was reporting that a murder had taken place over the game.

It was seasonably balmy in Kansas City that night when four friends gathered to play bridge at the Bennett's apartment. The men had played golf earlier in the day and the women had been busy preparing a sumptuous supper.

Late in the evening Myrtle was dummy to John's (her partner and husband) 4 spades contracts. He went down two tricks; she complained; he slapped her; she got a gun and shot him twice in the back while he tried to run. Shocking!

Even more shocking - she got away with it. Evidence and witnesses notwithstanding, it was a smooth-talking defense attorney and a beautiful, weeping defendant that claimed victory.

But many think it was an additional fact that was discovered which also helped poor, sobbing Myrtle not only get acquitted but collect insurance as well - in an earlier hand, John had trumped her ace.

After that was revealed, bridge players across the country agreed -this was indeed justifiable homicide.




Monday, September 17, 2012

The Good Old Days

Bridge in the olden days sounded so lovely. I didn't start playing until the 21st century and therefore never knew olden day bridge, but I yearn for it nevertheless. 

From the beginning, I learned contract bridge and its myriad conventions and I have the copious books, notes, crib sheets and headaches to prove it. But there was a time, I am told, when bridge was pleasant and lovely and much easier and there were no books telling you how to bid, play or defend. 

In those days all you needed was a manicure, three other players and a pitcher of martinis chilling in the "electric refrigerator" to sip on between playing and chatting. If I sipped martinis and chatted while playing today's bridge, well, I was going to say I wouldn't be able to tell a heart from a spade but that can happen to me sober and quiet.

Ladies would start with luncheon at noon, play throughout the afternoon, stop at 4 o'clock for coffee or a fresh batch of 'tinis, then play until 6 o'clock clearing out before the man of the house returned. Then the Mrs. would set up the vacuum so the afternoon appeared constructive.

It turns out I have two people to blame for this change in bridge from pleasant to petrifying - Harold Vanderbilt who invented contract bridge and Ely Culbertson who mercilessly promoted it.
After these two scoundrels got involved, social bridge turned into serious bridge and that...led...to...MURDER!

To be continued.... 

Monday, September 10, 2012

The Ace Got Ducked

 My legs are black and blue from kicking myself. I've had to resort to wearing long pants in the 90 degree heat to hide the wounds. All because of a chapter in a book called: Watson's Classic Book on the Play of the Hand at Bridge that I've been reading. 

The author of the book, Louis H. Watson, has been the cause of much consternation for me and I sometimes have mean thoughts about him after slogging through one of his incredibly thorough and detailed chapters. But since he wrote this book in 1934, chances are pretty good he has passed on so thoughts such as those would be disrespectful.

Mr. Watson has been attempting to teach me, albeit from the grave, how to play bridge, because Lord knows no one else has been able to, and I admire his patience in this endeavor. The other day I read the chapter called "Ducking." From what I gathered, ducking is the refusal to take a trick for the first few rounds to prevent the opponents from establishing a suit. 

So I had the ace of clubs and I saw that the declarer had the king, queen, jack and so on in dummy. Light bulb moment! Hold up the ace so she can't get to those clubs! Yea! I saw the whole chaper in my mind. She runs out of clubs and can't get to dummy! So I let it go a few rounds and I finally played my ace with a smirk on my face and... she... trumps... it. Idiot! 

I was so involved in recalling the finer points of the chapter that I forgot we were in a suit contract and not no-trump. Learning bridge for me is like a zero sum game - every time I learn something new, something else has to go.

I've decided one thing I can do is start wearing slippers to the Bridge Center to prevent further bruising on my legs in the future.