Last night Birdgyrl and Monkey and Cruzn came over to meet my parents. I served mooshy lasagna and salad in mismatched bowls. [Aside: What the hell is up with my cooking lately? The next thing you know I will be serving my guests blue soup and my transformation into Bridget Jones will be complete.] My dad told two stories involving whiskey and old men.
Story #1: My father runs into his father�s partner (in his private practice--the men in our family were doctors for generations) at a recent wedding. The man is in his eighties.
Bob: Sir, you look great. What do you attribute it to?
Old Man: Well Bob, I�ve started drinking a better grade of whiskey.
Story #2: My father is 21 years old, and goes to visit a friend of his father�s, who is also his friend. They have all gone hunting together since my father was a little boy. Mr. Morgan offers my father a drink, and he accepts. Mr. Morgan says to his wife, �Sweet Woman,* would you please bring us out a bottle of whiskey?�
Sweet Woman obligingly brings out the whiskey, which still has a price tag on it, and she comments on how expensive liquor is getting. Mr. Morgan says, �Why, Sweet Woman, they�re only just now beginning to charge what it�s worth!�
These stories are much better the way my father tells them.
My parents were very much charmed by my friends. And who wouldn�t be? My friends are charming as hell. My parents are pretty great too, in my humble opinion.
I�ll write more later. I have some hilarious stories for you.
*He always called his wife "Sweet Woman." This may be the most devastatingly romantic thing I have ever heard.
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