My grandfather died a couple weeks ago, and we got talking about him. It seems he was a fierce competitor, with a bit of a temper about it. My dad is pretty competitive, with a mean streak in him at times when he's losing. It makes me feel a little better somehow, both in that it gives more credibility to where I've gotten, and in that it's something that ties me to my family in some roundabout way, which is rare.
I played Race for the Galaxy recently, didn't do great sportsmanshipwise, but that game is murder, and I hadn't played anything in a while, and excuses, etc. The next day was Princes of Florence, which I hate, I think. At first I didn't think I was doing great, because I did some rationalizing and excusemaking in my head, but I realized I actually was pretty damn good about keeping it to myself, even when things went badly.
I don't know if this represents a revitalization of this blog, likely not, but I'll still keep it around for when the mood strikes. The subject remains an open issue in my life.
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