Sometimes I waste the precious hours of life on Facebook. And when I’m there, I speak with those of you who waste the precious hours of life reading this blog.
Together, we came up with a blog idea we’re going to iterate today. Am I using “iterate” correctly?
Family stories. Like, in my family, there was this one time that my Uncle Leo’s brother, Bob, (apparently they were really into three-letter names in his family) and Bob’s wife, Lana, got a pool.
I believe it was my cousin Katie who finally blew up over this detail. Because my Uncle Leo said to her, “Did you hear Bob and Lana got a pool?” and then later that day someone said to her, “Hey, Bob and Lana got a pool” and then the next day her grandmother said, “Did you hear Bob and Lana got a pool” and—
—just for the record, never once was I invited to that pool.
Anyway, finally my cousin Katie was all, “OH MY GOD I KNOW THEY GOT A POOL.”
So that’s become our saying whenever you hear something 47 times in our family.
In Ned’s family, they were all going to a restaurant or something, and their grandmother saw someone had parked right on the parking lines.
“Look at that,” she said. “They ruined it for everybody.”
His family loved this dramatic statement.
I have to tell you that TO THIS DAY, when I see someone parking stupidly and getting on my line so I have to get out the passenger door, I think, You ruined it for everybody.
I’ll tell you one more and then I will go to work so I can make biscuits. Wait. The cats do that. Maybe we could switch today and I could make biscuits and they could copy edit things. Catty edit. I really need to get out more. Maybe to a pool. Does anyone have one?
Years ago, on this blog where you waste the precious hours of your life, someone told me about how in her family, they were all gathered in the hospital, because the storyteller’s father was quite ill. The priest came, from their church, and suggested they all go into the hall to pray.
See. I am already giggling telling you this.
The storyteller, her sisters and her mom all knelt in the hallway with the priest, and in an unfortunate turn of events, the mom
expelled some gas as soon as she kneeled. She jumped up, turned her white patent-leather shoe this way and that, and said, “These darn shoes.”
She blamed it on the shoes! It was such an excellent save!
Naturally the storyteller and her sisters died right there.
It’s my favorite story of all time. I realize this makes me not lofty, and I had to disabuse you of the notion that I am lofty, attitude toward Joann Fabric notwithstanding.
So now tell us your stories. Don’t ruin it for everyone. Tomorrow I’ll write a post on Bob and Lana’s pool.