mahj.

I think my life is pretty embarrassing. I have red hair, for one, which means I have no soul and have been referred to as a ginger and/or fire-crotch since before I can remember. Not only is my head aflame, I'm also Jewish. Proud of it, and yet, still a humorous fact. I look maybe like the most Irish Catholic person you've ever met, but I can chant trope with the best of 'em, and truth be told I haven't a drop of leprachaun blood in my body, despite what my hair may tell you.
It tends to lie, I blame the lack of melanin.

I partake in several activities that warrant a few raised eyebrows, among them Gossip Girl, Glee and Twilight. Still, I think last night I finally realized that I should probably be a bit more discrete with one of my most age-inappropriate past-times.

I play in a weekly Mah Jongg group that I co-founded with my best friend (and Mahj teacher/mentor/goddess) Tracy.

As a Jewish woman, my elder years are all largely set out for me, pre-determined by generations and generations of gamers from ancient Dynasties in Asia. They're filled with craks, bams, dots, dragons, soaps, winds, ears-full of gossip and a platter of Betty's lemon bars (she's hosting the game this week). The only problem is, I've started the process MUCH TOO SOON and I fear I have nothing to look forward to in retirement now that I know the wonders of the Orient at such a young age. I'm not willing to put off my passion for 30 more years, though, so go ahead and roll the dice, Cuppy.

The set is out and the night begins.

Nice rack, eh? This is my wall and my card. Pre-game.

Mid-game and my hand is looking sweeeeeeet! those square looking tiles are called soaps and I love them.

I like to call this one "tile infantry".

Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!