In 91 days, Woney and I are leaving for Ireland. Actually, we are leaving for New York first, then two days after that we are leaving for Ireland. When things are on an even keel, it is pretty much all I talk about anymore.
So I was on the elevator, talking about Ireland with a co-worker, when one of the maintenance guys riding the elevator with us asked, “Are you of Irish descent?”
I said, “Of course. Can you see my freckles? That is the Irish part. The giant calves I have, that is the German part. So I’m both.”
Here’s where my story takes a tragic turn. The maintenance guy twinkled at me and said in his best flirty voice, utterly proud of himself, “There is nothing wrong with a sturdy woman.”
Sturdy. Woman.
Sturdy.
I don’t even want to talk anymore.
The end.
Love, Jimmie 