"I dropped a washer. Help me find it." I got down on my knees beside him. I felt around for a minute, then saw the lost washer hiding in the dirt under the ATV. I handed it to him. Mac is a man of many talents, but "seeing" something is not one of them. I do believe he, like lot of men, could look for a full-size turkey on a refrigerator shelf and miss seeing it. (...) I have to admit that even though I could find the washer I wouldn't have known what to do with it. Teamwork!
Perhaps eccentricity is an area I haven't explored sufficiently.
“Did you name the boat the Miss Nora?”
“No, the old guy who owned it before me named her.” He laughed. “Not some love of his life, if that’s what you’re thinking. Miss Nora was his cat. Meanest, worst-tempered cat you ever saw. She’d growl when you fed her. Had a rigid no-purr policy.”
“Drive off?” I considered the scenario with dismay. “It’s not a particularly heroic-sounding plan.”
“You know the old saying. He who sleuths and runs away, lives to sleuth another day. You want to be a dead hero or a live sleuth?”
I could have told her she'd get no signal here, but I figured she'd find that out for herself soon enough. I like to talk to people and be helpful if I can, but her superior, impatient attitude did not encourage helpfulness.
The guard at the hospital checked my ID and patted me down. Me. I got patted down! I felt rather flattered that he thought I could have an AK-47 concealed in my pants leg or a bomb strapped to my Wal-Mart bra.
Sometimes I think Jo deserves a medal for her sunny attitude. Sometimes I’d like to turn her upside down and shake her and yell, “There’s a bad side to everything. How come you can’t ever see it?”
Apparently this situation required stronger action. I suspected the only idea that occurred to me would instantly catapult me into Weird Little Old Lady territory. So be it.
When I bought a new crock pot not long ago, I asked about the lenght of the warranty, and the clerk gave me a look that said "at your age, what difference does it make?"
The Lord boomed a stern reminder out of my conscience: “Kicking shins won't keep you out of heaven, but do you really want to have it on your résumé for the Lord?”