Such a deal

Such a deal

I couldn’t help noticing three noisy but well-restrained card sharks huddled closely, absorbed in a splashdown of discarded jacks and queens. A loving patriarch and his cunning and brave young sons, sprung free from their school routines, were now eagerly plotting their next kills. Just a few days before, further down the coast, an enraged tiger shark,  (the real deal), had nipped an unfortunate swimmer and scooped up national headlines … but these players were far too immersed in their own impending blood bath to worry about sea battles.

It was probably about 8AM and my tanksuit was still dry.  I’d delayed my laps because I wanted to catch up with Mango and Keo, the prized macaws, and ogle Buddha, tucked under his bodhi tree, when the land sharks’ triumphant shrieks first rang out. Yet another precious detour before it was time to grab my swim gloves and take off …  Of course, the busy trio could have easily ignored me — oh, if only that poor snorkeler could have won free passage  — but they so graciously invited me to join their melee.

A puzzling array of playing cards were spread out on the table when the elder sportsman explained that they were playing Sillyhead, a game that he and his wife had mastered during their Tahitian honeymoon. “Sillyhead?” I repeated with a significant squint, and he leaned closer to say that it was really called Bullshit, throwing a respectful glance over to his younger son.

I started telling Ben, Mason and Spencer how my husband had just yesterday dusted off our ancient cribbage board, which prompted his sons to give me a quick tour of their cards, that they were aching to dump to win the field.  It’s so easy, they crooned —  more cards flying out of their hands.

But no, I held my ground resolutely.  I needed to round up my gloves  — and neither a menacing shark, the charms of Mango, Keo, and Buddha, nor a very tempting offer to tag along for Bullshit was going to change my mind. my swim gloves


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