Years ago - and I can’t remember where or when or with whom - I played more than once a game called Cards Against Humanity. All I can remember about it was how funny it was. Like pee-in-your-pants funny.

So, we were at Game Night (Tuesdays at Carriage House Sundries; do go - it’s a riot) playing Scrabble, when I realized there was a group at another table playing Cards Against Humanity. They were laughing a lot - not something generally witnessed by Scrabble players. When I got home that night, I downloaded the game (publisher permits this, with hysterical “rules”) and had Yancey Graphics print it out for me on card stock.

I’ve spent hours today cutting the cards apart - first with my paper cutter, and then trimming with scissors. I’m not done yet. In reading the cards, I have come to the conclusion that there must be a second generation now producing the game. To wit: I’m positive that the original game did not have answer cards that used the words “cum”, “jizz”, “anal”, and a score of others I’d just as soon not mention, don’t want to read, say, and don’t want to hear.

I’ve never thought of myself as prudish, but vulgarity has never had a place in my life or vocabulary. I’m old, but I know other old people who wouldn’t flinch at words I do flinch at. I think I was thirteen or fourteen the first time I thought about using the F word. I don’t remember who I heard it from, or in what context, but I’d had some kind of upsetting conversation at home; something that made me really mad. So, to cool off, I put on my jacket and walked around the neighborhood, muttering to myself that I would never, EVER say that word, no matter how mad I was. I do remember it was freezing cold that night.

The only curse word ever spoken at our house was “damn,” and Mom was the only one officially allowed to say it. I didn’t even know that was a rule until one night when my then sister-in-law Irene used it. Dad (who never swore, ever) told Irene in no uncertain terms that only Topsy (Mom’s lifelong nickname) was allowed to say “damn” at our house.

I never used nor reacted to the F word much, but then I married a retired Navy captain. Hoo boy. Sixteen years of that, and the F word became part of my everyday vocabulary, though I do now squelch myself in front of young ‘uns and people I don’t know well enough.

Because it’s who I am, I am going to email the publishers of the new Cards Against Humanity, and express my desire that they publish a Geezer Addition for those of us who don’t mind disrespect, sarcasm, or sex-related words, but draw the line at unnecessary vulgarity.

We shall see.

I’m off to open the box the hammock for the gazebo came in. If it’s comfy enough, I may sleep out there tonight. I tried that once before - on a Thermarest camping pad - and it didn’t work. I had Fang with me, who barked at whatever, whenever, plus the damn light pollution from the Town streetlights came at me from every direction, and the hot-rodders (obviously equipped with small penises) raced around the square and up the side streets til the wee hours. So, armed this time with earplugs and those things you put over your eyes I can’t remember the name of right now, and leaving the dogs in the house, I hope for a silent, hammock-swinging night.

Oh - a couple of nights ago, my neighbor Mary and I both woke up because of a weird noise in my driveway. There wasn’t any screaming like a cat would do - not even squealing. But there’s been an Eastern Screech Owl living in one of the dead trees behind her house, and today - having seen a rat in the driveway - I’ve decided what we heard had to have been the owl killing a rat. I know rats live under the house - Sadie and Fang flushed one out of the big bush by the front fence today - and because poisoning rats means also poisoning whatever eats them, I don’t put out poison. But I think I’m going to let the dogs into the crawlspace and see what they come up with. Someone told me recently they believe Fang is part rat-terrier. I’m about to find out.

Off to finish trimming my Cards Against Humanity.

xox

Lucy