All it took was Hunny Bunny mentioning that I wasn't playing live poker often enough. Within ten minutes of him uttering that statement we'd arranged for me to drop him off at the car show so I could take the car for the drive to Niagara Falls.

It was a great day here, sunny and mild, and along the way I took a side trip off the highway to do a wee tour of my old stomping grounds. I played with the idea of taking a longer journey around my former haunts, but decided against. Nostalgic yearning is not good for poker focus.

In retrospect, I'd have been better off.

I got to the Poker Room at 1:15 to find only two thirds of the tables going; usually by this time, the place is on the way to being packed.

And why were they not full? They were only spreading 2/5, 5/5 and 5/10 NLHE. No 1/2 NLHE, no 1/2 or 2/5 limit. All the fishie games seem to be missing, the games that entice the tourists and passers-by to sit down and blow their buyins on some fun. And if they're not here, then according to the aquatic food chain players like me are the fishies.

If I was smart, I thought to myself, I'd go to Niagara Casino instead. But alas, I'm not that smart, and so waited for a table. The results of two hours of play:

What I started with: $200
Most I was up: $165
Most I was down: $90
Session fee: $18 ($6 every half hour. Not doing that again.)
Dealer/waitress tips: $16
What I left with: $208

So for two hours, I won $42 playing poker, of which most was lost as the cost of sitting at the table. Yippee skippee, drinks are on me.

Although I think I'd have been better served spending my day elsewhere, it's not to say it was a complete waste; me old dad used to say a day you learned something new is not a wasted day. And I learned two things:

1. In this winter of my discontent, I have lost touch with my intuition, that little voice that whispers in the back of mind and lets me know when something is not a very good idea. Every stupid thing in my life has come from not heeding that little voice, and since I am getting too old for that sort of shit, I need to center myself and find it again. And when it's loud enough to tell me something, I need to listen.
   
2. I was far too tight, and not nearly aggressive enough. There were opportunities where a well-timed bluff would have taken the pot, and I did not take advantage of those opportunities. I was too scared.
   

I don't much like this place I am in, poker-wise and life-wise. I've lost my nerve, my confidence is shot, I am not myself. If I had a motto, right now it would be I doubt, therefor I might be.