My friend, Barbara, can’t handle
food that’s too spicy. We went out for
breakfast to a place where we had eaten before.
Barbara wanted sausage--they offered both link & patty--& she
remembered that one was spicier than the other, but she couldn’t remember
which. She asked the waitress the
difference between the two sausages. She
was told that the link was long, like a cigar, & the patty was sort of like
a hamburger. Scary—this woman is allowed
to drive, vote & reproduce! Even
scarier—she probably went home & told her family that she’d had some
customers who were so stupid that they didn’t know the difference between link
& patty sausage.
I am a right-brained person. I am an artist, a writer (I hope) &
foreign languages come fairly easily to me.
My husband, however, is left-brained.
He’s a lawyer & accountant & a very logical thinker. (Do I hear anyone asking if that’s true, why
did he marry me?) That’s why, when
someone claims that we don’t have a brain between us, we can truthfully tell
them, “You’re wrong—we have ONE!!”
And now, off to other subjects—of
course! (I told you that I wasn’t
logical.)
Blake was about 8 when we
borrowed a station wagon & took our 3 & Bud’s sister’s 3 kids to Las Vegas,
Bryce Canyon, Zion & the Grand Canyon.
That meant there were 8 of us at every meal. It always took 2 people to bring us our
order. One night a waitress brought our
entire order on ONE tray. We applauded! A couple of days later, Blake was
reminiscing. He asked, “Do you remember
when we gave that waitress the clap?” (I
have absolutely NO idea where he’d heard that term.)
In case you’re wondering why I
use so many exclamation points when I write—I THINK in exclamation points!!!!!
I have a hat that is guaranteed
against any contingency, even loss. I’m wearing it here. I will NEVER lose the guarantee.
My father was the gentlest,
kindest man I ever knew. I only remember
hearing him yell once. At me! He was teaching me to drive & I guess I
came a teensy weensy bit too close to the cars that were parked. He threw both arms back against the seat (as
if readying for crucifixion) & shouted, “WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK
YOU’RE DOING?” I don’t know why he
yelled—I didn’t hit anybody!
Men wake up as good looking as when they went to bed. Women somehow deteriorate during the night----fishducky
