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Growing up, my mother would exasperate my soul as she played solitaire.

DeckOfCardsIt seemed to me that she would deal out the obligatory stacks, look them over, then decide within three moves if she had a good draw or not.

“No, that won’t work,” she would declare before I even had a good chance to look over all the possibilities.

I mean, was she a card shark?  Did she have a psychic ability to know which cards were going to come up – and in which order?

Often, I would leave the scene muttering, “Why not at least TRY!”

Now that I am in my senior years, I find myself playing solitaire quite often.

More often than I would like.

Better than a move, most nights.

So, I try really hard to play with the same mindset my mother had.  Predict.  Learn.  Repeat.

As Kenny Rodgers sings, “Know when to fold ’em!”

Still. I think my mother has some secrets.

You know, this computer version keeps track of all the games I play (until I reset the statistics), and I can very seldom get passed 33 1/3%.  Most often, I consider myself lucky if I get three finished games in a row.

That is most frustrating when I get a particularly great hand that just flows along until all cards are moved on top of the aces, and then the next game doesn’t get off the first rank.

Bah!  Humbug!

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