The picture says it all.

Two school years ago I spent a good half hour or more every Sunday afternoon, and the occasional weekday, engaging in friendly but serious Boggle wordplay with my roommate. It was our tradition—we would come home from church and eat lunch and then, before she left for her weekly RS presidency meeting, we would settle down on the living room floor for the weekly ritual—six rounds, alternating shaking, and whoever shook was the first to read her words. She was the perfect Boggle partner—some days I would have better luck than she or vice versa, but had we kept tally beyond our six rounds of the day we would have come out awfully close to even.

Occasionally we would invite other friends and/or roommates to join in the fun, but they couldn’t compete with us. They enjoyed the game, but only rarely came back for a second try.

Actually, we weren’t restricted to Boggle. Sometimes we played Scrabble, more often we played Take Two (known as Speed Scrabble in some circles), and once in a long while we tried our hand at Up-Words. The only requirement was that it involve words, and we kept a big trusty red dictionary in the corner of the room for our rather frequent word disputes.

So when my roommate left for her mission almost a year and a half ago I got temporary possession of the big red dictionary, the Boggle game (thought I now have my own), and a bundle of 99-cent notepaper from Macey’s that are the perfect size for a six rounds…but in return I lost my Boggle partner and I have been searching for a new partner ever since.

Over the break I threw my game of Boggle into my luggage and toted it with me from Michigan to California to Bountiful and to Provo in the hopes of finding a willing competitor, and though the half dozen or so that I found down in Provo made the whole effort worthwhile, my sister had the fortune of being my first target. On Christmas Eve, my first full day home, I challenged her to a game. She was hesitant—understandably so, because she knew perfectly well that I would win. I assured her that it was just about the fun of playing and that it didn’t matter to me in the least if I won every round and that therefore it ought not to matter to her either. This barely convinced her, but it was enough and we sat down on the floor and I proceeded to win four games in a row.

It really wasn’t about the winning for me. Of course, ideally I play Boggle to win, but for lack of an experienced partner (it’s all about experience, I believe, and has nothing to do with, say, level of education—my roommate had never successfully attended college and hadn’t done so well in high school, either) I’m willing to play for the sake of playing. But I suppose I would be discouraged if I lost several times in a row and if my playing partner seemed to be of the opinion that my loss was virtually inevitable. And so when my sister called it quits and said, “Now it’s my turn to choose the game,” I conceded that it was only fair.

Well, fair except that her choice of games was Twister. I have issues with Twister. Now hold your place in the story because I’m about to go on a short but relevant tangent here before I return to it. Last weekend my roommate and I drove out to Canton for a game night with some friends in the ward. I noticed that she had thrown several games in the backseat of her car and that one of those games was Twister, and I mentioned this fact.

“I should warn you,” I told her, “that I’m morally opposed to Twister.” It was only when she replied (with elaboration), “Well, I’m only morally opposed if I’m playing with my non-LDS friends…” that I realized that one could legitimately be morally opposed to this particular game and that she might think I was serious. I had to quickly clarify that when I say I am morally opposed to something I am only saying that I have a strong dislike for said object, activity, or social convention, and that I can’t necessarily articulate my reasons for that dislike. “I am morally opposed” is my way of saying, “you can’t get me to do this and I don’t have to explain why.” (Other things that fall under my moral opposition include mascara, high heels, charades, attending football games, flirting, and church dances, and you might notice that my moral opposition effectively excludes me from a good portion of the Mormon dating scene.)

The point being that when my sister suggested that she could redeem herself with a game of Twister I clung to my moral opposition and my role as the older sibling and flatly refused. This was not fair of me, I know. If I forced her into a game of Boggle (and it didn’t take that much force), then I ought rightfully to submit to a game of Twister. But she has been trained in her role as youngest sibling for eighteen years and backed down in the face of my protests much sooner than she should have and chose a different game (Yahtzee—which I then won three times in a row, but I admit that it was pure luck).

Anyway, because my sister loves me (and I love you too, Belles!) she still had a grand old time but will likely not allow me to challenge her to another game of Boggle anytime soon.

My Boggle partner is coming home from her mission in a month, just on time for my trip out to Utah for our spring (or more appropriately mid-winter) break and I intend to take full advantage of my visit. Sadly, I see little change that our weekly tournaments will ever resume. I’ve promised my roommate that I will introduce her to Boggle, but although she’s willing to try it she’s also confessed that she’s not a word game person. And there’s just no converting those types.

And so my search continues.