A few days ago John was off work and in charge of the egg and toast portion of Henrietta’s breakfast. He decided to throw her a curve ball, just cause he’s funny that way. Instead of her normal slice of white bread or oven roll with butter and jelly, he gave her a slice of Jewish rye, toasted. Butter and grape jelly. He took her tray into her in bed and left it with her. When I went back in to retrieve the tray and do all the morning stuff he followed me. Henrietta asked what kind of bread that was and commented on how good it was. John couldn’t just tell her “Rye bread.”. He had to say “Jewish rye”. “Oh! Really?” (shock and amazement) “Jewish rye? Ooooh…” At this point I begin to hear the little gears and wheels in her head start up and begin moving faster. By the time we walk out of the room and John has repeated the phrase “Jewish rye” several more times, (always with an evil grin on his face), the squeaking cacophony of rapidly turning thoughts coming from her little head was deafening. She was mumbling under her breath about the “…seeds. I can’t eat seeds… Jewish rye….I can’t be eating that… I’m just too Catholic….”
Comment by moo on April 15, 2008 at 12:51 pm
#1. I love the name Henrietta. And you can tell her that.
#2. Why is it that men can never be satisfied with the simple things … why must they stir things up?
#3. Welcome to the blogosphere!
Comment by Krissa on April 15, 2008 at 1:02 pm
She really is a doll. Most of the time!
As far as this particular man goes… I believe the way he puts it is, he loves to “stir the pot”. Very true! And usually funny. USUALLY.
Comment by Susan on April 16, 2008 at 2:10 pm
I Love John! I love H. And I LOVE YOU the best! (Please ask Lisa to come visit me!)
Comment by Krissa on April 16, 2008 at 2:18 pm
Lisa?! What is this crap? So now I’m not invited and Lisa is? I DON’T THINK SO! I will tell her she is officially forbidden to go. Without me.
And YOU are not allowed to feed candy and pickle anyone but me! So there.
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