The Game

Last year whilst vacationing in the Rhine Valley, we came upon a flea market in the small town of Boppard. They were selling the usual what-nots, hoo-dads, and thing-a-ma-jiggers, and I wasn’t at all interested.

You see, I consider myself a minimalist. I like order and purpose, and hardwood floors. I don’t like clutter or crap, or people who litter (it’s unrelated – but still very true).

I grew up in a house that was definitely not minimalist. I think the best way to describe it would be… the exact and polar opposite of minimalism. My parents were/are collectors and loved/love garage sales. I did not – and do not – share their enthusiasm.

So, when we came upon the flea market in Boppard, I was quite happy to pass it by, and go on my merry way (I was feeling quite merry that day) and possibly have another glass of Riesling (because dang, they do make a good Riesling in the Rhine Valley).

Then I heard something that would change my life FOREVER… “Mankomania!”

I looked over at my dear, dear husband thinking he had come up with yet another clever nickname for me, using my unusual surname… as though Spanky Manky, Hanky Panky Manky, The Mankanator, The Manx, Monkey Manky and “My Manky wife” weren’t enough.

Then I saw what he held in his hands…

Mankomania… the game!


We obviously had to buy it (for two euros). I might be an minimalist, but I’m not insane.




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