“In Indiana, when there are four people, there is euchre.” Moire just pointed me to a lovely introduction to the game of euchre. I resisted euchre for a long time, always claiming that it was too confusing or that I was too stupid to learn. Finally in high school I had a boyfriend whose family were euchre-mad, and they insisted that I learn. Within a year I was a euchre-fiend. Oh yes, I know the joy of being “in the barn” on a warm summer evening, sipping bad beer and swearing I’d get up after one more hand. I’ve been in arguments that were only settled with reference to the high holy book: “Hoyle.” In college I even entered a tournament with my friend Kel but we lost when our oh-so-complicated table sign system fell apart. (I shall never forget the horror of triumphantly throwing down my final card of the game expecting Kel to trump it, only to see her throw down an off-suit nine. “I thought you had the bower!!” “I forgot the sign!!” *sigh*) Imagine my surprise on one of my first dates with the Snook when, apropos of nothing, he said, “Do you know how to play euchre?” (My inner monologue: “I will marry this guy.”) Years have passed and I now know that Australian euchre is a little different from American Midwestern – their deck runs from sevens to aces; they play to eleven points (using sixes and fives to keep score); a common house rule is that if you order up a suit for your partner, you have to play alone. It’s still basically the same. (Though the Snook adamantly refuses to use my favorite house rule: “Partner’s Best.”) We’re getting older now and we don’t play very often. I should try to find an online version…