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“Are you getting enough sleep?” asked Pearl, peering into my eyes over the Scrabble board.  

“Yes,” I said. 

“Are you sure?” added Rose. “You look tired.” 

“What’s with the hair?” said Louise. “You need to comb it back, or forward, or something.” 

I looked at Louise. Her soft, black hair was cropped short and there was a trace of carefully applied lipstick on her lips. She had a colorful scarf arranged artfully around her neck. 

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll get right on it when I get home.”  

“And another thing,” said Louise, holding her fork with perfectly manicured fingers, and taking a small, delicate bite of the apple crisp Pearl had made. 

“What?” I asked. 

“You need to slow down,” she said. 

“Yes,” agreed Rose.  

“Absolutely,” said Pearl. 

“Whose turn is it?” I asked, trying to change the subject. It was disconcerting having all three Scrabblettes stare at me at the same time.  

“Mine,” said Rose with the sound of victory in her voice. “I’ve got a J. I just love Js, don’t you? So many points, so many neat words.” She put a J and an O on the board above the O and N in onager (a wild ass found in the deserts of Central Asia), and spelled the word jo vertically and horizontally in addition to spelling the word on. The J is worth 8 points and Rose had placed it on a triple word square. “Yahoo!” she shouted, counting up her points. “That’s 24 and 24, plus 4 more which adds up to 52. Pearl, you got that?”  

“Dutifully noted,” answered Pearl, penciling in the number 52 on the scorecard. “You’re in the lead by 10 points.” 

“What the heck does jo mean?” I asked.  

“A cup of coffee,” said Rose. “You know, like, ‘Get me a cuppa jo, right now’.”  

“You want a cup of coffee?” asked Louise. 

“No,” said Rose. “I was just explaining to Suzy the definition of jo.” 

“Watch this,” said Louise. She added an E to the end of the vertical jo, and put letters in front of it to spell zonure. Zonure ran across a double word square. When the score was added up Louise had gained 40 points and taken over the lead from Rose. 

“What does joe mean?” I asked. “What’s the definition of zonure?” 

“A zonure is an African lizard,” said Louise. “I would have thought you knew that. And joe means ‘He’s a regular joe’. Haven’t you heard that expression before? It means he’s a sweetheart.” 

“Who’s a regular joe?” asked Pearl. 

“No one,” said Louise. “I’m defining the word joe with an E for Suzy.  

“Speaking of jo,” said Rose. “I mean jo without an E, this coffee needs to be stronger. Who wants more? I’ll make another pot.” 

“I’ll take a cup,” said Pearl. 

“Me too,” said Louise. 

“Not me,” I said. “I’m wired.”  

“Wired?” said Pearl. “You look tired to me.” 

“She’s wired, but then she’ll be tired,” said Rose. 

“She needs a vacation,” said Louise. 

“Oy,” I said defiantly, firmly placing a Y under the O in zonure. “The Y is on a triple letter score so give me 13 points, Pearl.” 

“Not a word,” said the Scrabblettes in unison.  

“It’s foreign,” explained Pearl.  

“Yiddish,” added Louise. 

“Not allowed,” said Rose. 

“All right then,” I said, with as much patience as I could muster. “I’ve got an O. How ‘bout if I put it above the Z in zonure and spell Oz for a measly 11 points.” 

“No,” said Louise. 

“No?” I asked. “Why not?” 

“Proper noun,” said Pearl. 

“Not allowed,” repeated Rose. 

“Maybe I am tired,” I said, sitting back in my chair in defeat. “Maybe I will have another cup of jo. Maybe I do need a vacation.” 

“To Oz,” said Pearl. 

“With Joe,” said Louise. 

“Joe who?” asked Rose. 

Author’s note: The Official Scrabble Players Dictionary, Third Edition (Merriam Webster, Inc., 1996) has the following definitions: jo: a sweetheart; joe: a fellow; oy: used to express dismay or pain. Oz is not listed. The Scrabblettes have been informed.