(Reworked from some old posts.)
My
mother-in-law wrote a book (one handmade copy, not published) for each of my
kids when they were small. My daughter’s
was “Reader Nameless” (she told me she prefers to be nameless in future posts)
because at age 4 she kept begging me to teach her to read. I hired a college student since I didn’t feel
capable of doing the job. She was
reading at about a 4th grade level when she started
kindergarten. Matt’s book was “Me,
Matthew”. I remember one part very
clearly. It went, “Matthew’s mommy got
him a haircut. It was very short. His mommy called it a crew cut. His grandmother called it a shame.”
I
had a friend who used to do the New York Times crossword puzzles in ink. (So do I, but I don’t brag about it. She did!)
I bought her several books of the Times puzzles & mailed them to her
as a gift. I actually sent only half of
each book. I tore out the back half (where
the answers are printed) & sent those to her husband’s office with
instructions to let me know when she found it necessary to ask for help.
Bud’s
friend, Bernie, used to drive him & another friend, Ralph, to law school
every day. Bernie weighed maybe 150
pounds, soaking wet. The other two
weighed 200+, each. Bernie drove a little MG. The third passenger had to sit on the second
one’s lap. The car, not surprisingly,
developed a permanent tilt.
A NORMAL ECONVERSATION IN MY FAMILY:
I sent this to my kids:
& got this back from Matt, my second child:
Then Nameless sent this:
Matt's rebuttal:
Then Blake had his say:
Two
of my favorite things in the world are Bearnaise sauce & cash flow--not
necessarily in that order.
My
dad passed away while he was in the hospital.
After his death, his mail came to our house so we could take care of his
bills. There was a bill from a doctor for
a “short hospital visit” after his
death. Bud called the billing service to
straighten it out & was told “If the doctor says he saw him, he saw
him!” (I suppose the reason it was a “short
hospital visit” could have been due
to the fact that my dad was already dead.)
My husband told them to please go ahead & sue us. He told them he was a lawyer & would love
to put the doctor on the stand to explain what he had done for my father at
that visit. We never heard from them
again.
We
were treated to a beautiful sight on the freeway recently. A California Highway Patrolman (the guy who
gives you tickets) was on the shoulder, kneeling down by his car & changing
a flat tire. It made us smile, anyway!!
There was a restaurant in Monterey,
CA called Neil DeVon’s Steak House. Bud was
stationed at nearby Fort Ord & he & his friends would often eat there. I’m not sure of my husband’s dietary
practices at that restaurant, but one day the manager jokingly (?) said to him,
“Lt. Fischer, we’re happy to have you as such a steady customer. However, in the future, would you mind
bringing your own butter?” He did bring in a pound at his next visit.
We were driving on a side street
& my husband said something (not important what) & I told him, “You’re right!!”
He started to pull over as if to park & I asked him why he was
stopping. He told me he had to find a
piece of paper & a pen so he could write down what I said, & would I
please sign & date it?
If my brain's still working, I'll be back tomorrow----fishducky
