“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Like the weather,” I replied, “grumbly, with bits of flashing fire.”


Dinner With Betty

Had the loveliest time tonight. Myself, along with my dear friend Betty, a full seventy-nine and a half years young, together with my thirty-one years of age step-son Ryan dined al fresco in Boone, NC tonight at the Red Onion.

Awaiting our meal the conversation was casual and traveled from topic to topic, then Betty began to tell the story of Mary’s cat. Crazy Mary, as she is known privately between Betty and me, made several phone calls to Betty yesterday concerning the declining health of her cat. The story changed and with each call Betty struggled to determine what exactly was her role in Mary’s cat saga. Mary needed a ride to the vet to have her cat put down, but then another call involved Medicaid of Betty to which Betty exclaimed, “I didn’t know cats were covered under Medicaid!”

“Well, when I figured out she didn’t need me to give her a ride,” Betty continued “I took the note ‘kill Mary’s cat’ off the calendar.”

Ryan and I laughed until tears ran and other diners glanced to see what they might be missing.

“Well,” she continued, “I just couldn’t leave it up there, what if somebody saw it?”

Yes indeed, what if somebody saw Betty’s note, “Kill Mary’s cat.”