The Apple

While waiting in line at the WPI orientation barbecue, a woman standing next to us remarked how the Young One and I look like twins. We smiled politely and when she went ahead, we just looked at each other and shook our heads. Other than height and color of our eyes, we don't look a thing alike. The Young One has fair skin, a sprinkling of cinnamon freckles across her nose, and auburn hair. My skin tone is swarthy Italian. My hair is dark brown bordering on black with a fair amount of silver, and I don't have freckles across the bridge of my nose. The Young One is a carbon copy of Himself. The Young One and I do enjoy some of the same activities. Art, movies, electronics, sense of humor

"You don't look a thing like me." We laughed.

"No, but I have your soul."

"Poor you."

"No, poor you. It means that Grandma's curse that you would have one just like you came true."

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

OMG!

OMG! Auntie Rose called this morning, and I missed the call. The Witch didn't leave a voicemail.

The Sound

As a dutiful Janet, I've been filling out forms for Dad. Not sure if he can't be bothered filling them out, can't see to fill them out, or has a hard time understanding them.

I filled out a form and brought it back for his signature. Showed him where I needed his John Hancock and handed him a pen.

"Isn't there a way you could sign my name so we didn't have to do this?" Dad whined

"Yeah, there is."

"How?"

"The only way my signature would be accepted as yours, would be for you to give me power of attorney."

I heard crickets.

Eggs

Dad has been complaining about having to do the cooking. Woman's work. Dad is torqued Ma hasn't been cooking meals. He lamented to me over the phone.

"I've had to do the cooking this week."

I could picture him raising the back of his wrist to his forehead. Martyr pose.

"She wasn't too happy with what I cooked for her tonight."

"What did you make?"

"The same thing I gave her last night. Potatoes and eggs."

"She doesn't like potatoes and eggs."

"I know."

I thought I detected a smirk in his tone, but I guess you have to break a few eggs.

Go Fish

Himself took Dad to the Mahket. They were nearly finished going through the list when Dad announced he need "little fishies"

"Little fishies?" Himself asked puzzled. "Do you mean tuna?"

"No, I hate tuna."

"The goldfish crackers?" Dad answered "no" to a string of possibilities.

"No." Dad left in search of little fishies.

Himself picked up the few remaining items and then waited for Dad. Five minutes, ten minutes. Just about the time Himself was going to send out the posse, Dad rounded the corner.

He placed two dozen eggs in the cart.

"But you already have eggs."

"Oh."

Himself didn't pursue the matter. Just wanted to get the heck out of the mahket.

Jury's still out as to what little fishies are.