News from the Ridge

Mrs. Sunbather's husband died last week. They had been married for over 60 years and she is very, very sad, so I stopped by to visit and express my condolences.

The first thing I noticed when she answered the door is that it smelled smoky. The second thing I noticed after I walked in the door is that my eyes were watering and my throat was scratchy. The longer I sat there, the worse it got. I knew she didn't smoke and was starting to worry something might actually be on fire.  Finally I asked, "Mrs. Sunbather, do you smell smoke?"

She looked at me a minute and confessed. "It's me. I decided I wanted a cigarette today so I bought some a little bit ago." 

"Did it make you feel better?"

"No. That's why I smoked the whole pack."

88 years old and able to hotbox an entire pack of cigarettes in just a couple of hours. Impressive, to say the least!

My New Friend

It appears the New Place might just have a similar cast of characters as my beloved Rock Ridge. I'm still meeting people every day and most the time I have forgotten the person's name within the hour. Not today, though.

"I'm Bob," this ancient person said to me as he extended a hand more gnarled than an old sea captain.  "Bob! Well, I shouldn't forget that," I replied.

"You won't if you put an extra O in it," he deviously grinned.

Indeed I won't. Ever.