I know it’s time for me to blog about something meaningful…it’s not like there aren’t plenty of subjects to approach. But I keep thinking about a conversation I had over the weekend that totally took me by surprise, and cracks me up every time I remember it.
We were with some of Steve’s high school friends in San Francisco. One, who I don’t know well, who is quiet and thoughtful (and a grandfather!) said over dinner, “I have a pet squirrel and his name is Oliver, because he was an orphan.”
I was incredulous (yes, incredulous) as he told the story of rescuing and nursing this baby squirrel back to health, so he could release him (though he will set up a box with his blanket, so Oliver can come and go as he pleases, until he’s comfortable in the wild). And it turns out Oliver isn’t the first. There was the black squirrel and the one with the really big eye.
I have repeated the opening line to Steve about 20 times since Saturday. He laughs every time. So do I.
And then, you already know, there were the dancing shetland ponies (yesterday’s post) and a funny video of Bruce Bochy with his high socks, and I am just a laughing maniac.
Excuse me, while I go have a meaningless but much needed chuckle in the other room. It’s just that kind of week.