Games & Other Forms of Torture

Smita, tutor to the equestrian stars, and I have been playing rounds and rounds of Blokus. Despite my intense hatred for the game, which is a spatial/visual tile game, I am undefeated. Then we played "Word Sweep!," a dictionary game, which I felt I should be good at, but lost 2/3 of the time. I think the time element worked to my disadvantage. Also, I didn't know such words as "grok," "grommit," "keno," "retrench," and "kenosis," among other words (actually, none of these were mine). Smita can't pronounce Blokus, and yet, she kicked my ass at the game involving words.
Anyhow, I hate playing games. I have a terrible competitive streak, particularly with word games and games that last a long time. I feel if I have to put in alot of time or I feel the game is intellectual, that I should win, or at least not have the worst score. So I'm a pain in the ass. It's totally genetic, and it's also a problem I have encountered in MANY Yalies.
What else?
I didn't bring sneakers (WHAT?!!) and have developed painful blisters from all the walking in flip-flops I've been doing. Smita thinks I'm a wuss because she cultivates blisters like violets. We walked to Palm Beach (you have to go over a bridge) to sit on the beach on the Eastern side, facing the full-on Atlantic (as opposed to the Intercoastal Waterway) and watched the lunar eclipse. We missed most of it, but it was quite nice sitting in the sand.
On the way back, a mysterious creature ran across our path. It looked like a weasel the size of a large dog. Or a coyote with bobcat characterstics. We can't come up with anything, so I've been guessing far-fetched things like an escaped dingoose (dingo-mongoose hybrid) created by some mad too-rich Australian scientist. Smita is appalled by the idea, probably because she is old and lacks imagination. Then again, she thinks it is probably a R.O.U.S., which is from The Princess Bride, so she is clearly delusional and should not be trusted.
Thus far, The Motorcycle Diaries isn't as moving or detailed as the film, though the young Che is just as handsome (though in a different way) as Gael Garcia Bernal.
Right-o, I think you've had enough.