Family rules.

I'm playing Scrabble with my sister and my nephew. We all know the official rules; we've all played this game a million times. But these are family rules, so there are a few variations.

Squares and tiles are given their original value no matter how many times you use them, how many permutations we come up with. Words in foreign languages are allowed, including Italian, Spanish, French, Ebonic, and Latin. The only things we really count out are proper nouns. We freely study each other's tiles, give suggestions, and make sure everybody finishes, AND gets 50 points added on.

My sisters and I started playing by the "unofficial rules" when my nephews were little. We used the game as a vocabulary builder and spelling coach, but also as a way to teach co-operation. Because the big lesson here was if one gets into difficulties, we all help to get them out.

I'm playing Scrabble with my sister and nephew in my studio apartment. It's a bit of a squeeze between my bed and their air mattresses, and my sister and I will be doing the "not -so -limber-anymore" mambo tomorrow. When we finally finish the game, everyone will bunk down in my studio's living space, I'll remind my nephew not to camp in the bathroom, and it'll be lights out.

I got into difficulties. A working artist who hit a rough patch. Borrowing, scrambling to keep things going between gigs, living tight to the bone, praying a lot. Got hit with two major expenses that had to be taken care of, which destroyed my budget and wiped out my bank accounts. I had just enough to get me to the end of the week,food, transport, and time on the cell phone before it went down. Problem was, a check that would dig me out of the hole a little wasn't going to make it to me til four days after the end of the week.

My sister Rhonda made her pile early and retired. She'd been vacationing with my nephew, Alic, looking for a new place to land-Canada being the ultimate goal. She came home for Thanksgiving, decided to stick around for a while.

Anyway, we'd been in touch the whole time. She knew I was having a rough time, knew all of the details of what was going on. That was the hard part for me. I'm used to keeping my own counsel, solving my own problems, and while I've learned to holler for help, it's never going to stop feeling horrible.

So, she moved in. No sense in wasting money on another apartment or hotel room. We just moved her and my youngest nephew in til a bigger place

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