Today is a day that must always be marked. In 1929, Patricia Anne, aka Pat, thrust herself on the world.

I am away from my computer and iPad today in the rarefied air, well, smoky, I think the word is smoky not rarified. Maybe it’s both, but it’s not so rarefied in the oldsters strolling by with their tanks of fresh air supply.

I digress. We are in a casino.

We are honoring the month of March by visiting the Yocha Dehe Wintun Nation and handing the native people our money at Cache Creek.

I’m trying to think of any story that could connect Pat to gambling at a casino. I’m empty.

She certainly would berate my stupidity of coming here the day my work bonus hit my bank account. A “fool and her money” would like be the very least of an insightful and witty gut punch she’d deliver.

If I win today, I might smile and assume Pat is looking down from a mythical cloud and blessing me. Equally probable, if I lose today I might assume Pat is looking down from a mythical cloud and blessing me.

Odds are it would be the latter. In life, she’d never miss the opportunity to teach me a lesson.