I have always been a Canasta girl. I grew up collecting 8 of a kind, making runs and melding. I became a pro at 12 when I spent the summer in Germany. Not only did I learn to count in German, I quickly learned to appreciate, and look forward to, the custom of kaffeetrinken.
Both sets of my grandparents were Bridge players. As a kid, I was dragged around to afternoon Bridge Club and Friday night Bridge with the Proffits (the best part of which began with hamburgers from Bill and Bea's). I lurked around the table, trying to decipher such mysterious comments such as One No Trump and Two Clubs. I have always been perplexed by the bidding.
Since Girl11.5 came along, my card playing has been restricted to Go Fish and Crazy 8s. When the call came, I eagerly accepted, although the question does not sound complimentary. "Are you trainable?" (Really, you had to ask?) The local Pinochle Club needed another player and I had less than a week to get down to brass tacks and learn the game.
Saturday night came, and although I wasn't sure I was ready to play with the likes of the veteran players at their 50 - plus year old club, off I went. I had my little black velvet cross-body purse with me, and I was armed with the basic necessities. I have come to the realization that this purse and this specific combination of contents are perfect for nearly any occasion.
1) Pinochle rule book. If I had to, I would excuse myself to the bathroom and study up. (Yes, Dedicated Reader, the bathroom has always been my Safe Place, and once again makes an appearance in RRR.)
2) Bandaids. I had recently acquired, through hard work on my roof with a rake and broom, a blister on my thumb. Said blister was oozing and had turned black. I was convinced I had MERSA and did not want to raise the anxiety level in the nonagenarians who had gathered that night to play cards and booze it up. I have such a fat digit that the Bandaid did not stay secured for long, so I needed a healthy supply to keep my secret. Again, the bathroom would be my refuge for these covert ministrations.
3) Gum. The stakes were high and my panic level was higher. Stress Breath was not something additional I needed to worry about. I naturally feel better smelling the mint emanating from my reticule, so I had a sizable supply of Trident pieces, the small ones.
4) 24 quarters. There is a way to get penalized in a hand of Pinochle. At this club, the penalty is a quarter. I had no idea how many quarters to take. I asked Girl11.5 her thoughts on the matter. "How many hands will you play?" "Well, there are 6 tables and so we will play 24 hands." "Take 24 quarters." Her lack of confidence in my abilities, as well as her honesty, were a bit disconcerting.
A recap is now in order. The contents of the black velvet handbag were clearly designed for my comfort that evening, but are applicable to any outing.
1) Rule book - you may not need to know how much a round of jacks is worth, or what the secret code bid is to tell your partner you've got a bust for a hand, but you never know when you need a piece of paper to write a phone number, or wipe your nose, and the pages from this book will suffice in a pinch.
2) Bandaids - I wore new shoes to my brother's graduation from Pharmacy School. We parked a few blocks from the venue and by the time I got on campus, I had a bloody mess in my beautiful new ballet flat. A stranger serendipitously offered me a Bandaid, that is how bad it was. At no time did I supplicate in public, it was good samaritanship at its finest. My heel has regenerated, but the flat was ruined. You can never be over-prepared in the Bandaid department, either for yourself or someone in unfortunate circumstances. If you don't believe me, check out my post titled "The Bandaid Nazi".
3) Gum. I should not have to say more than one word: HALITOSIS. However, I shall point out that this sticky substance is also useful for attaching notes to windshields ("Next time you decide to park so close to someone, leave a can opener!"), making friends in close quarters, repairing eyeglasses (or anything else broken), and, when chewed, reducing the acid reflux in your mouth and thus preventing vomiting.
4) 24 quarters. That's $6.00. You can buy a pack of gum (refer to #3), a cup of coffee, or make a phone call. You can also make a small ring out of a quarter (Google it), or in this case, 24 of them. You may channel your inner David Copperfield and make them all disappear, perhaps on a street corner and thus earn tips in the process.
There you have it. The perfect combination of purse contents for every situation. You can thank me later.
