Still here, despite the slow blogging. Today’s offering is on the lighter side.
90-year-old lady playing with her 6-year-old greatgrandson.
Kid (rolling around on the floor): Greatgrandmom, can you do this?
GGM: Oh no, honey, I can’t do that.
Kid (doing a somersault): Can you do this?
GGM: No, dear, I can’t do that.
Kid (jumping up and down): How about this?
GGM: Nope. Sorry.
Kid: Gee Greatgrandmom, can’t you do anything?
GGM: (thinks for a second) [flips her dentures out of her mouth, then slips them back in again] How about that! Can you do that?
Kid: [shocked silence]
Second true story:
I met a lovely young man, well-spoken, intelligent, a fellow grammar nazi. He happened to be from Nigeria. After sharing our favorite grammatical pet peeves, I asked if his country of origin was a source of difficulty or of amusement (Do people ask if you’re a prince? Do you say, “Sure, didn’t you get my email?”) Turns out it was mostly amusing, although he shared with me that in college, he once held the worst possible campus job for someone from his country: telephone solicitation of alumni.
I see his point. Would you give your credit card info to someone from Nigeria?
He told me that during one call, the gentleman was about to give his card number. His wife in the background could be heard saying: “He’s from Nigeria? Hang up the phone!”