Scrabble and Me

I have a new past time, similar to my Dad playing solitaire as a nightly ritual before going to bed. His activity was slightly wiser, since solitaire lasted maybe 5 minutes on the computer, while my obsession wants at least an hour. Nevertheless, I feel justified by the fact that every time I play I learn a new word, and if I ever learn what these words mean and how to use them in real conversation then it will indeed have been time well spent.

So yes, Scrabble is my new passion. With the state of technology being such that I can carry the game with me and play it on the metro, on long walks, and even at the gym, I am now constantly on the lookout for 8-letter words (did you know you get a 50-point bonus if you use all your letters at the same time??), long-forgotten digraphs, and strange new vowel combinations. I get ridiculously excited when I get a Q or X, and I would rather give my opponent the Triple Word spot than waste it on an unworthy, one-syllabled exhibition like "pout" or "tent". I have nearly memorized the list of two-letter words provided by the Scrabble dictionary, and I spend an unreasonable amount of time looking up possibilities like "bitox" and "sourwit" (neither of which are real words).

My opponent for the first few weeks was the computer, under the pleasant alias of Norm1. We played daily and had a pretty good relationship, since I always won. He rivaled your average 10th-grader in skills, but I didn't almost graduate from college for nothing. I beat him soundly every time, with the closest margin being something like 50 points.

But even a girl gets tired of having her way all the time, so I switched Norm1 out for a foe by the name of Hard1. Our first match was grueling. I agonized over every word choice, while in seconds Hard1 came out with words I had never even heard of before that accrued him 80, 90, 100 points in a single turn. Words like "opercula" and "outjuts" mocked my intelligence, and at first I was certain that Hard1 was actually writing the Scrabble dictionary as he played. In our first match he beat me by over 100 points. The next five games ("wars" would be a better word choice in this case) were similar, and I started to miss my old companion Norm1. But I persisted, knowing that only cowards play where they are confident of victory. And one very late night my victory came.

It had been a long day at school, and a longer evening of lesson planning. After sapping every ounce of elementary-level creativity for my 4th grade classroom, I turned to Hard1 for the rejuvenation of a higher challenge. We played for an hour and a half, him pulling out words like "rostrate" and "yuga" while I trusted in well-placed classics such as "waged" and "zipper". It was getting down to the wire when I found myself in possession of "unwoven", already spelled nearly perfectly in the letters given to me. I found an ideal placement for it and the match was soon sealed in my favor! 395 to 326! I was so pleased I nearly texted my dear father to tell him of my triumph, but fortunately I chanced to look at the clock first. It was 2 am. On a school night. Curse you Hard1! It seems I can't win either way.

So after many late nights followed by many earlier mornings, Hard1 and I have settled for a more casual relationship. Instead of a desperate rivalry we are now occasional sparring partners, and I win about one time in four. My next goal is to have a dictionary app handy, so that I can discover what "betels" actually means.