Every year at Christmastide my sister and I keep the universe in good working order. By playing Scrabble.
You see, we both love words and are well-matched in talent, vocabulary, muscular coordination, and tolerance for – umm – creative vocabulary. We follow the laws of Scrabble. We make the most of every premium square. No proper names allowed, but we may, in a pinch, resort to some improper nomenclature. And so librarian and history professor lock horns three times per Christmas season.
The outcome is ontologically reassuring. Continue reading