Survival

Again it's come to this. Because my life is more hectic and harried in singlemomville than ordinary, I tend to have even fewer ideas for blog posts than normal. (Which practically speaking takes the total into negative numbers.) So the best I'll probably be able to do for the duration is bullet-pointed collections of mundanities of interest only to close friends and family, and really marginal even in those cases. If you get a blog post that's actually got a topic during the next week or so, consider it a bonus. If you want to check out until next Friday, I'll understand.

• The storm finally passed by, and the waters did not rise again; all that dark green and yellow and orange on the radar didn't translate into particularly heavy rain last night. It's been showers and mist all day today, sometimes so fine that a light breeze blows the drops around as if they were snowflakes. While putting the kids back in the car at Archer's school pickup, Cady Gray exclaimed that she was getting wet even those she was sitting in her carseat being buckled in. "I think it's raining in the car, Mom."


• Watched the season premiere of The Shield last night. Even during the "previously on The Shield" recap I was bumfuzzled by the number of complicated storylines I almost forgotten about. Then during the show I was further amazed at the number of balls that were left hanging in the air over the hiatus. It was nice to see that shot of the guys looking at the pile of money train cash, though -- a reminder that what seemed at the time like an inspired but out-of-left-field plotline is going to be the catalyst for the wrap-up of the whole series, and the final fates of all the players (it's already been really final for one).


• Speaking of television, was anybody watching the WSOP coverage of Main Event day one when they showed the quad aces getting beaten in a showdown by a royal flush? Talk about bumfuzzled; I couldn't believe what I'd just seen. Neither could the winner, who called over a photographer to document the cards lying face up on the table.


• Noel and Scott made it safely to Toronto, and last I heard they were schmoozing it up with the likes of Chris Stults and Sam Adams, having great food, and trying to deal with a one-bar internet connection. Here's hoping every day will bring new delights.

Gondola!

Overheard in the surreal Grand Canal indoor shopping mall on the second floor of the Venetian (where there is a full-fledged canal complete with singing gondoliers): "Guy! Come on! You and me. Gondola."

Today's activities:

• A modest breakfast at Starbucks.
• Poker tournament. Noel lasted about 40 minutes; me, about 15 minutes longer. Full details below for the poker nerds.
• Buzzing with poker excitement, we went over to New York New York to scope out the Big Apple theming, and had some outstanding fries at Nathan's.
• Finally figured out the proper fruity-drink strategy: stroll over to the frozen-drink place in the shopping court before heading poolside.
• Beach time ... sun ... wave pool ... more sun ... lazy river round and round and round ... more sun.
• Our big expensive dinner at Trattoria Lupo's, the Wolfgang Puck Italian eatery in the hotel. Delicious.
• A serious hike to the other end of a very crowded Strip, through a nearly continuous gauntlet of men handing out cards for escort services. Their methodology was to snap the cards with their fingers then extend them toward you -- snap, snap, snap, handoff. Passing the Eiffel tower at the Paris, the illusion was somewhat compromised because the ground was littered with tiny pictures of naked women.
• "Gondola."
• Back up the other side of the Strip, now in the dark, on the slightly more classy side with the Mirage and Caesar's Palace. We stopped at the Bellagio to see the fountains, which were just as spectacular as advertised.
• I ruminated on the oddly-constituted groups one sees roaming Vegas: chick cliques, braces of vaguely thuggish lads, frat boy packs, slicks in collared shirts and sport coats, hipsters in sharkskin suits. And of course, the fanny-packed elderly, who are the only ones who don't seem to be fond of carrying yard-long daiquiris.
• Back to the hotel room where we nursed our aching feet.

Tomorrow: Games of chance and skill!

(So, the poker. I got only four playable hands during my brief tourney foray.

1. Pocket fives. I bet 3x the big blind, didn't hit the flop which was all overcards, folded (correctly).
2. KQ offsuit. Limped in, didn't hit the flop which had an ace, folded (again correctly -- winning hand paired the ace).
3. Pocket aces. Bet 3x the big blind, didn't hit the flop which had two hearts. Called a 2x minimum bet. Turn came another heart. Folded (correctly -- winning hand was a flush.)
4. Pocket tens. Down to 300 in chips, went all in, got sucked out by KJ when a king came on the river.

I had fun, I didn't embarrass myself, I plan to play again tomorrow if I can get a seat.)