Stacy Nicholson

And before I could even think to myself, what have I just done?

Seven of the ladies said they'd be happy to come to my house the next week and play bridge.

And that's when the real terror set in.

I was going to have to go home and tell my roommate, who was even younger than I was, that I had invited seven senior citizens over for a bridge party the following Monday night.

Eight people means two tables a bridge, and all I had was my dining room table and four chairs.

I had never thrown an adult party before, and I was going to be entertaining women who had been entertaining for longer than I had been alive.

So I was worried I was going to make a fool of myself.

But I borrowed a beat-up old card table and four folding chairs from my parents.

I knew food was an important part of the success of any party, so I loaded up on everything I could think of.

Chips, nuts, candy, meat, cheese, crackers, veggies, fruit, coffee, soda, tea, dessert.

I got the required four decks of bridge cards, tallies, and score sheets, and I waited.

And on Monday night, I was a nervous wreck and nauseous, and I wanted to call the whole thing off.

But in my panic, following my surprise invitation, I didn't get any of their phone numbers, so I was stuck waiting and worrying and hoping for the best.

And they all showed up, all together, right on time at 7 o'clock.

There was Marge, a self-assured take charge lady, Sally, a barely five foot tall sweetheart, Greta, Sheila, Gail, Helen, and Janet, whose husband had left her after his high school reunion.

I invited them in and we all had to squeeze around the card table in the middle of my little living room in my little apartment.

I showed them around.

I invited them to help themselves to the refreshments.

We divided between the two tables and we started to play bridge and get to know each other.

We played 24 hands of bridge.