Poker Night

So, as part of my plan to make a million playing poker on line, I entered my first cash tournament last night. It cost me $2.20 of my $5 gift from PokerStars.

Fifteen minutes before the tournament began, I sat watching as the number of players entered rose: 542, 543, 544. The maximum number of entries was set at 2,750. If that many get in before registration closes, it will take a long night of poker to win. But hey, the more that enter, the more money on the line. Thirteen minutes to go, 600 entered.

I've played poker on line for several years now. But never for cash. I've played in my local bar on Wednesday nights. Again, not for cash. I've played with my buddies on a Friday night. That one's for cash, and I usually do fairly well. Actually, in most of the games, I do okay. But this is the first on-line cash game and I'm interested to see how people play it.

Ten minutes to go, 700 players entered.

Okay, five minutes to go. 975 players entered. Checklist time:

Kids are in bed.

Dog and cat have been fed.

VCR is taping Hell's Kitchen for later.

I've peed.

Fire's been stoked.

We're good.

I check the list of players. There are poker fans from all over North America and beyond. I see Montreal, Welland, Los Angeles, Sioux Lookout, Toronto, Dahlonega, Snohomish, Belfast, London, Quebec and Moscow to name but a few. Registration is now closed. 1,770 players have entered. The prize pool is $3,540. First prize is $557.56. Those who finish between 241st and 252nd get the bottom prize of $3.18. Game on.

Seventeen minutes in. 250 players have been eliminated. I've had one good hand and a couple not too bad. I've bluffed a few times and have not been caught. I've more than doubled the stake I started with. Not bad, but could be better.

Okay, we're almost one hour in. I'm holding, but not improving. And in these tournaments you need to be improving. You also need to not panic. That is, at times, difficult. When your chip count is getting low, it's always tempting to go all in with a marginal hand, just to catch up. Patience my friend, patience. Breathe.

Yes, I am low stack at the table right now. But there is plenty of time. Okay, just bluffed and got caught. It is now officially panic time. Extremely low stack. All in with Queen-Ten suited. Guy calls with 9-10 off suit. Flops the nine, picks up the 10 on the turn. Got two of my spades on the flop, didn't get the last one. Game over. I'm not rich, finished in 955th place.

Okay, lessons learned? Stay the course, unless you need to veer off course. Be patient, be patient, be patient, until you need to increase your stack now, now, now. It's a long tournament. Play quality hands and don't push a bluff beyond what you can afford to lose. Unless it's a great bluff.

Okay, I've still got $3.80 left and I'm ready for the next tournament. Big money's a comin'.

Craft Time

Well, I'm back from Playgroup.

And I need to make a correction to one of my previous entries. February is not Reading Month. January was Reading Month. February is Nursery Rhymes Month. I know you'll all sleep better knowing that. I will.

And today's Craft was a little book, made in the shape of the child's hand and bound with yarn. A little complex for a 3-year-old, but I guess the Ham Radio kits hadn't arrived yet. As for the book project, an example was provided to follow. The first page, or cover, had "Sonwun's Story," written on it. Page two was supposed to list something he liked to do: "Sonwun likes to play baseball."

Page 3: "Sonwun loves Mommy, Daddy and Sontoo."

Page 4: "Sonwun likes to eat toast and jam."

Well, fortunately, there was a group of Grade 8 students there to help out. Now before I go on here, I should mention that the "young helpers" have been another bone of contention for me. Usually, they are Grade 5s and, sorry, they're relatively useless. And, in some cases, they're detrimental. They actually compete for the toys with the 0 to 4-year-olds. These Grade 8s, however, left a much better impression. They seemed to actually understand why there were there. And I appreciated it. While I sat back with Sontoo, enjoying a cup of crappy coffee, young Austin (Grade 8) tackled the unenviable task of assisting Sonwun, who, as previously mentioned, loves to spread glue, colour everything and cut with scissors in no particular pattern. In the end, the two of them pulled it off. Austin really impressed me with his patience and willingness to stick it out to the end. Really nice to see in one so young.

And there was some other good news. Jake was there this week with his son. So I had someone talk to and commiserate with as Austin attempted to learn what Sonwun's favourite food and favourite activity were.

While the mommies sat at the far end of the room, Jake and I worked on some additional pages for the little books:

Page 5: "Sonwun prefers his martini shaken, not stirred."

Page 6: "Sonwun thinks massive spending is not the best way to beat a recession."

Page 7: "Sonwun is Pro Choice, now that he and his brother are safe."

Or one for little Mercedes' book (the little princess with a proper, pristine mommy from hell) : "Mercedes likes her coffee like her men . . ."

Would have killed to see Mommy's face if we slipped that into her little book.

Anyway, we kept our pages out of the little books. And, while Sonwun really had no idea what was going on with that book, his Mommy loved it. As soon as she saw it, she insisted we put the date on it and put it away in a memory book. So, mission accomplished. And I guess that's why it's mostly mommies at these little gatherings and this is why we do these silly little crafts.

And here's the exciting part . . . as February is Nursery Rhyme Month, next week, the kids are supposed to dress up as their favourite Nursery Rhyme character. Jake and I have already decided that next week will more likely be Wii Day at Jake's house.

The Big V

Well, I failed.

Test results came back yesterday and my little swimmers are hanging on for dear life.

Yes, I had the Big V(asectomy) a couple of months back. It was not the most pleasant experience of my life, but I survived. The process has been a study in maintaining dignity while all around you, life is conspiring to rob you of same.

It began with the "consultation" process. My family doctor told me I had to meet with the surgeon, the kindly Dr. Bob, so he could go over the procedure, outline the risks and be sure I was ready to proceed. Bob, I was told, had neutered thousands of us. He knew what he was doing. So off I went to the consultation . . .

Where I met Dr. Bob's young, attractive female assistant. I'm not sure which is worse, having an older male doctor inspect the boys, or a young female who said she had to "make sure everything was where it is supposed to be."

Well, she found nothing out of place, and it certainly was not for a lack of looking.

"Think about something else, think about something else, think about something else."

And so it was that I found myself, working to avoid eye contact with anyone in Dr. Bob's waiting room, a few months later. I had been told the procedure would take 12 to 15 minutes and a few days to recover. Now the fact that they said "12 to 15 minutes" made me just a tad nervous. It sounded like someone was keeping track and trying to beat their best time here. I really didn't want the boys to be treated like a worn out tire at a Nascar pit stop. This is not a race. Take your time, do it right, and don't forget to put everything back where it belongs.

As I had been told, the worst part was the anesthetic. If you've ever had stitches, say, in your finger, you know what I'm talking about. It's kind of like a prolonged bee sting. On your finger, not so bad. Where he stuck the needle . . .

After Dr. Bob finished the first side, I was introduced to his intern, who was to do the other side. I learned the intern was from Saudi Arabia, where this procedure, he told me, was illegal. Um, okay. But let's all remember that this procedure is both legal and in full keeping with MY religious beliefs, okay? Let's not get all Jihad while we're wielding a knife in an area I am very fond of. And I'm sorry, but these thoughts did, in fact, run through my mind, given the world's political climate these days. My apologies if you consider that racist.

Bottom line is, he was a nice guy, we had as nice a conversation as is possible under the circumstances, and I was relieved to note that Dr. Bob did not take his eyes off of the subject the entire time.

Well, with a bag of frozen peas and Tylenol 3s as my new best friends, I got through the recovery phase in about a week.

Which brings us to Thursday.

Two months after the procedure, one must bring a "sample" to the lab to be sure the swimmers have all left the pool. Having lost the instructions, I phoned Dr. Bob's office to make sure everything was done right. I was somewhat dismayed, however, when his office person, told me the sample had to be one hour old.

"Any wiggle room on that?" I asked, given that I live about an hour and 10 minutes from the lab.

"No," she answered firmly. "One hour."

I explained my situation, to which she replied, "People get very creative."

See, I fell for what TV had taught me. You know, there was a room at the lab with "reading material," maybe "a video" and that's the way it went. Not so. I was to get intimate with the specimen cup, apparently somewhere between my home and the lab.

Well, I figured it would be easier to explain why I was speeding to a police officer, than it would be to explain why I was, well, spending a little quality time with the palm sisters, on the side of the highway at 11 a.m. on a Thursday.

In any case, I made it to the lab on time (130kmh in a 100 zone most of the way), turned in my cup and was told it would take 2 days for results. Huh?? What exactly was the rush then? If I had to be here in an hour, seems to me we'd be firing the sample under a microscope ASAP, wouldn't we? After all, there were only minutes to spare.

Well, I called the lab Friday and apparently there are still some tadpoles in the pond. And that means, oh joy, I get to make another mad dash to the lab in a month. Oh, and if after six samples, there are still fish in the sea, I get to start all over - from the beginning.