Unexplored Territory

Monday, May 29, 2006

B-9 BINGO!

I am a self-proclaimed Bingo junkie and addict. I LOVE Bingo. I don't go a lot, but I LOVE playing it when I can.

The only other person who is more of a Bingo addict than myself is my sister in law, the Engineer. She is addicted. She loves to play. She plays whenever she can at their campground, and now that they don't have a house to live in (there is a story behind that ... it isn't that they HAVE to live at their camper ... they sold their over 3000 sf country home because she is in a state of flux with her job, not knowing whether she will be a Buckeye, a Hoosier, a Wolverine, or a member of the Bluegrass State (she is rooting for the latter)), she plays Bingo whenever she comes home for the weekend.

However, we haven't been for a while. We have been to our local Humane Society's Bingo, but it has been years. The Engineer and I decided that we were done throwing our money at them because we couldn't win a trip to the bathroom, no matter how much we paid.

But you haven't seen Bingo addicts until you see these regulars that attend these games. They come in, toting their Bingo tote full of multi-colored daubers because they have to use hot pink on the odd numbered games that start with B. They pull out their ugly gnomes, bobble-heads of various celebrities ... Donald Trump, Big Ben, some baseball star, or the Pope ..., and pictures of their family.

They set up their shrines. They make sure that noone is sitting in "their" seat. If a newcomer happens to have taken up residence in their lucky seat, they are promptly asked to move down because of the whole seniority/luck factor.

I am not THAT bad. I am mild compared to this. However, I have been known to yell obsenities at the nice blue-haired ladies who yell BINGO 2 minutes into a game, not understanding how in the hell someone could win THAT quickly. But they do.

And coveralls ... you might as well have the EMTs and the police there when those conclude, because those are the biggie payouts, and the ones that build the most tension.

So ... we are subjecting ourselves to the culture of the Bingo ladies AND men tonight. My kids want to know why they can't go. I tell them that they aren't old enough, but in all reality, they don't need hear their mother yelling something other than BINGO at the person who did actually yell BINGO.

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I'm a mom of three peeps ... Queen Bee, The Door Man, and the Chandelier Monkey, and wife to Ace, the Helpful Hardware Man. I created this space to get away from the people known as my inlaws, and because life with three kids and a hubby is all Unexplored Territory.

The nine-year-old who seems to be growing older every minute, has an opinion and a comment for everything, and has a true servant's heart.

The seven-year-old who loves the organization of things, will someday be someone's therapist because of his kind soul, and will more than likely be living with us until he is 40 years old.

The five-year-old with the 13-year-old attitude, who has a dictator's personality, asks you to watch her all the time and say "hold on" to keep your attention, and will someday come home on the back of some dude's motorcycle with 10 tatts and a body piercing or two.

The man of the house, the fixer of things, the winner of prizes, and the only person in his family to escape the South.