How would our “up-town” church folk react to someone who looked like a homeless man in need of a shower? Would we pass or fail “the test”?
Occasionally, my enthusiasm for coupons has not been a good thing. In fact, my husband’s surgery a year ago led to a “coupon” situation I have yet to live down.
My family and I lived in Australia for six years in the 70s. In that country, where they do speak English, one would think communicating would be a snap. Not so.
After a while, we learned some of the colloquialisms. But, at first, it was a battle not to appear stupid.
Must we constantly be in contact? In Ray Bradbury’s short story “The Murderer” from 1953, the protagonist “murders” all his talking appliances.
Brad Stine doesn’t like Valentine’s Day. Neither do I.
Brad, the comedian who performed for last weekend’s Corban Experience, pointed out, with humor, that Valentine’s Day is a sham. Love is not measured in flower petals, candy boxes or diamonds.
An extremely attractive young friend recently shared with me that boys (“not men,” she specified) were “hitting on” her.
“Uglify yourself!” I urged.
I used to dream of working at Disneyland. At the time, I was young, slim, unwrinkled and had dark hair. Snow White would have been a dream job.
Some people love teaching junior high school. I am not one of them.