Saturday, January 23, 2010


When Amalie and I were first married, we had two parakeets, Andy and Blue. These two were thick as sleeves, and anywhere Andy went, Blue was sure to follow. When Am and I returned from an outing, we would look for the birds, for they were let out of their cages. And if we found Andy, we were sure to find Blue, so we nicknamed him “Me, too”.

We had taught them to get on our forefinger, so when they were located, I would put my hand down, and Andy would hop on. I’d then hand him up to Amalie, and turn to Blue. “You, too, Me, too”, and he would hop on. Worked very nicely.

Then an interesting thing happened. I would say to Amalie, “I love you,” and she would hold up her forefinger which obviously meant “Me, too”. Or that might happen where she would say it, and I would signal. Then we took it one step further. We might be some place, as in a restaurant, and she might look up at me and just show her forefinger, and I would return the gesture. Our private signaling game.

Shift gears. The other day I was reading a novel. A man in his early 30’s has fallen in love with a young lady of similar age. He has told her that he loves her, but even though she may love him in return, she is unable to say so because of personal issues she has to resolve. Then a little later in the book he says, “I love you,” and she says, “Me, too.” I just burst out laughing!

(Ultimately she is able to say the words).

Humor -

Sitting by the window of her convent, Sister Barbara opened a letter from home one evening. Inside the letter was a $100 bill her parents had sent. Sister Barbara smiled at the gesture. As she read the letter by the window, she noticed a shabbily dressed stranger leaning against the lamp post below. Quickly, she wrote, "Don't despair. Sister Barbara," on a piece of paper, wrapped the $100 bill in it, got the man's attention and tossed it out the window to him.

The stranger picked it up, and with a puzzled expression and a tip of his hat, went off down the street. The next day, Sister Barbara was told that a man was at her door, insisting on seeing her. She went down, and found the stranger waiting. Without a word, he handed her a huge wad of $100 bills. "What's this?" she asked. "That's the $8,000 you have coming Sister," he replied. "Don't Despair paid 80-to-1."


  1. It sounds like Amalie would have laughed at that same passage in the novel, too!

  2. :-}
    Oscar and I read somewhere that when cats look at you then squeeze both their eyes shut it means they like you. So we do the same thing in public, look across at one another and squeeze both our eyes shut. We call it a 'kitty smile'

  3. Don't Despair always pays off. Of course!