I love pasta. It’s a deep love, a passionate love, a two syllable lo-ove. And sometimes you do crazy things for love. So the other night when I was making a little rotini and one fell ever-so-dramatically under the burner, I immediately – kids, don’t try this at home – removed the pot, turned off the stove and slowly maneuvered my fingers under the hot burner to rescue my true love.
As I successfully pulled the little sucker to safety, it dawned on me that my stealth extraction skills could be attributed to nothing other than years of playing Operation as a kid. After innumerable surgeries using itty bitty tweezers to remove the funny bone from a metal-skinned, red-nosed, high-voltage patient, no rotini would be left behind.
I began to wonder what other life-enhancing skills I may have learned from childhood games. It wasn’t long before I realized there were plenty:
Go Fish: Every time I do laundry and have some odd number of socks to match back together it’s a frustrating game of “got any white with red stripes?” “Nope, go fish.” I never win.
Twister: I can flow from Triangle pose to Warrior One to left-hand-on-yellow in eight seconds flat.
Jenga: Sometimes the Kleenex box with the pretty pink stripes is wedged eight deep under the ugly brown leaf and blue flower boxes at the grocery store.
Monopoly: This taught me not to be shocked that my big-red-hotel home in Arizona could only be traded for a tiny-green-house apartment in California.
Super Mario Bros: I always pick up spare change and have an extreme aversion to mushrooms.
Trivial Pursuit: Aside from a few fun facts about the Cold War, I also learned to thoroughly grease my pie pans. I’ve had a green pie jammed into my brown token since 1986.
Tetris: After a cocktail party, it’s a breeze slipping several dozen arbitrary cabernet, chardonnay, champagne and martini glasses into the dishwasher unscathed.
Hungry Hungry Hippos: I can’t divulge all my secrets but I always get more than my fair share of a bag of peanut butter M&Ms.
Sorry: How to apologize when I don’t remotely mean it – like when I eat the last of the M&Ms.
Risk: I always avoided playing Risk. I guess I was on to something.
I’m comforted to know that years of game-playing as a kid still contributes to my life as a grown up every day. I can’t wait to see how playing quarters in college work out for me. What practical skills can you attribute to games you played?