Confessions of a Serial Swooper

So, we just returned from a wonderful eight days in Florida.  Those who link into Serial Swooper via Facebook already know this because they spent the last eight days cursing my name and sending me verbally abusive messages every time I posted a new sunshine-filled picture.  And, then they went back to shoveling.

Anyway, we spent much of our vacation on Marco Island where we bunked in with some friends who had rented a house.  We went away with this same family last year (to Disney World) and had an equally nice time then only we did it in temperatures 20 degrees colder than we had this trip.   The kids (their three and our two) get along together beautifully which makes the whole trip easier for everyone.  Built in entertainment!

As is almost always the case, though, when traveling with small(ish) children they become the focus of the vacation.  Of course.  We build our days around feedings and nap time, SPF 50 applications and restaurants that offer Kids Menu’s and drinks with plastic lids.  We are all up by 7 am which means we are all, generally, in bed by 10.  At the latest.

And, that’s the way it should be.

Mostly.

But, on our next to last night together, we decided to stay up a little later and act like grown-ups.  Or…maybe like kids.  I don’t know.  Either way, the after dinner activities were to include Coors Light and cards by the pool.  And staying up part ten.  Woot!  Woot!

Nice.

So, what are we going to play?

I asked if everyone knew how to play hearts.  (I might as well have suggested Bridge.  Geek.)

We settled on Asshole.

Remember Asshole?

If you’re under the age of 45 and don’t live in Utah, you’ve probably played.

We’d all played.  Plenty of times.

But, here’s the thing.  When it came time to dealing?  Or who starts the first hand?  And playing singles versus doubles?  Skips?  Making rules?

Good god.   We forgot.

What?!  How could that be?  Because, I expected to always remember the rules of Asshole.  Like the way I will always remember the words to “Tainted Love.”   Or how well I remember the phone numbers of my childhood friends.  I expect myself to remember the important stuff.

Important stuff like the rules of Asshole.

*sigh*

We’re old.

So, how does any group of self-respecting 35 – 40 year olds solve a problem?

Easy.

We Google’d it.

H-o-w       t-o      p-l-a-y      A-s-s-h-o-l-e

Yup.  Old.

Whatever.