Behind in blogging

I'm not sure I'll ever get caught up because I want to blog about my trip to Gettysburg, the latest on West Valley Leadership Academy, an amazing 4th of July party, our driving trip to Colorado, the family reunion, the driving trip home, Claire moving to Seattle, and adventures in hospital-land visiting my brother. But instead, I'm going to talk about "Tic, Tac, Dough" which Claire started Tivo-ing for us.

Claire was waiting for Rob's episode to air.  In the mean time, she has moved to Seattle.  But Rob and I eat dinner on our TV tray tables and watch two horribly coifed and attired contestants duke it out with softball questions read by a horribly coifed and attired Wink Martindale. It was those questions that led Rob in late 1982 to say, "I can do that!" In an act of confidence and desperation, he promptly filled out an application, went in for an interview, and the rest is... well, a sad story, really. We had not an extra dime to our names and this seemed like a dream come true. I sat in the audience watching unknown contestant after unknown contestant, when out walked Rob, wearing someone's else's crew-necked sweater - a sweater deemed essential to hide the shirt and tie he had come in with. (Did he own a jacket then? I don't remember.) Anyway, he looked like he was twelve. Even so, I was proud, and we were both sure that he would win.

All was going well until... the stumble. The trick about playing Tic Tac Dough is you have to remember the Tic Tac part of it (instead of the dough). In selecting a category, he started to choose a category that wouldn't have blocked his opponent but in mid-word, he caught his error and made a quick course correction. This required the intervention of the Tic Tac Dough judge who stopped the show for at least a half an hour (time which was mercifully cut from the televised show). I saw our future prosperity slip away with each minute until we were left with the following consolation prizes:  Carpet Cleaner (we had wood floors), Kitty Litter (no pets), and cases of Rice-A-Roni (the San Francisco treat).

To add insult to injury, his opponent asks ME pick a square for him in the bonus round that only HE could play in, and MY suggestion helps HIM win MORE MONEY, and then off-camera asks if Rob would read a screen play he'd written.

Funny, with so much riding on it, I don't remember feeling sad that we lost. Somehow it just seemed clearer that our prosperity didn't depend on a game show, and that all of our provision ultimately came from God and we didn't need to win it. It was already won. 

We gave our carpet cleaner to neighbors with carpets, our kitty litter to a local animal shelter, and spent the next year working our way through a case of Rice-A-Roni. That was a year that included one of the best wins of all time - the lovely miss emily. We thought that our prize was lost, but our real prize was right around the corner. We are blessed.

(If our Tivo-ing pays off and Rob's episode airs, you know for sure it will find a place in my blog, so stay tuned!)