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My husband is a gambler. No, he has not lost our home or taken secret large withdrawals from our checking account, but he is a gambler at heart nonetheless. The fact of the matter is he loves the act of gambling, loves the game, love those cards. He can sit for hours and hours and hours- (yes, once at a Vegas casino he sat at a table from 9pm till 6am). He doesn't want to be bothered and hates when I sneak up on him and ask if he is almost done. There is no such thing as done! Just deal the cards and hope they fall in his favor. And if they don't, that's okay too. Just deal those cards again and let me play, he would say. He won't talk much to the other players (gotta be careful with that poker face- well actually blackjack is his game), but he will make a comment on occasion just to be social. I am glad he enjoys this but I never understood why. To me, it's just a stupid card game. It's a waste of time! Especially if you don't make any money! I realized a while back that he doesn't really play to win, he plays because he loves the game. He loves the ACT of the unknown, the thinking involved, the mystery, the thrill. Loves the feel of the cards in his hands. He could really care less if after 7 hours he has 12 dolllars in his pocket. He had fun. I also realized then what we had in common. I make stuff. I love it. I'm addicted (sorta). I will keep making stuff even if I don't make any money cause I LOVE what I am doing. I love to figure out and design new patterns, love the feel of fabric in my hands, love to run then through my sewing machine. I can sit for hours and hours and hours in my Bluepie room and dream up inventions and lust over new colors and fabrics. I don't need to talk to anyone. All I need is my creative mind and I am happy. So there you have it...Maybe we are not so different after all. Is the deck stacked against me? I don't think so.