When I set out to learn about my mother's bridge club, the Jewish octogenarians behind the matching outfits and accessories, I never expected to fall in love with them. This is the story of the ladies, their game, their gen, and the ragged path that led me back to my mother.
Why does Meghan have to call Harry “H?” And why does he feel the need to call her “M?” And who started it and why couldn’t they keep it to themselves. I don’t refer to my husband as Corn Chip or Bunny or Goose or Mighty Oak. Not on national television. I don’t want to hear it and you don’t want to hear it. I have a friend who calls me Butter. It’s our business. Another calls me Dodo, and another calls me Barts. Okay? No one gives a shit. Lovey dovey affectionate names are PRIVATE. I think this whole “H” thing is going to blow up in their faces. It’s tempting fate. It’s stuck up. You heard it here first.
Do you have a nick name?
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Betsy Lerner 
She is so full of tells. I can barely stay in front of the tv, she makes me want to turn and run so bad. And what a chump he is. What a stunted chump. Yeah, obviously I have nicknames. Foobah-woobah, Butch, Kank, Jumbo. Fritz. Petey.
I do, but it’s private. My cousin called her husband HB…Howard’s brother. It was nauseating. I agree. Anyway Happy Hanukkah to those who celebrate 8 candles.
Wonderful, counselor, almighty God, everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
That’s a nickname for a baby.
H pales.
Yes to all of it. Iwwww. And happy holidays to all, even those who let it all hang out!
“Do you have a nick name?”
Not at present, that I know of.
Now, before I continue, or as my continuance, I will tell you of an attorney I used to work for, and what he would tell clients as he prepped them for depositions: 1) Listen to the question, 2) Hear the question, 3) Understand the question, 4) Answer the question. These instructions were to dissuade his clients from the natural human tendency to start talking and not know when to shut up.
Ugh, hard pass on that shit show. I like famous people much better when I don’t know who they are.
Once I skied naked with some friends on a mountain top (St. Regis, Carol) on a warm sunny day. Sure enough, some other skiers came up while we carving some turns and trying not to fall and one, a friend named Carrie, took one look at us and said, “Huh, naked telemarkers” and kept on skiing. Every time our paths cross she always says, “Nice to see you again” and smiles. It’s our own private joke. So I guess my nickname is “you.”
Under particular circumstances my kids and I call each other Gassy Lassies. Does that count?
Um, yes.
For sure! But I do not have to sell my life on TV, so no one knows but those involved.
Oh except Indy 😂