“Put the gun down!” yells the octogenarian.
“Ok,” I sigh exasperated.
“You load those bullets back into it now!” she orders.
“Right,” I say as I gingerly remove the .32 from the top of the china closet and put the bullets into the gun’s cylinder.
“Don’t you ever take my gun again!” threatens the old lady.
“When did you last clean the gun?” I ask.
“Your father cleaned it before he died 25 years ago,” Mom responds. […]

My husband, John, was a good ole boy. A cowboy. He called himself the Iron Duke.
John had to leave his horses and his barn in upstate New York to peddle steel in the five boroughs. It was the ’70s and gangs still ruled the city. New York in those days could reduce a horse wrangler to a blubbering baby. John would pound the steering wheel and cry when he lost his way on the one-way streets in Brooklyn. […]

When our kids were little, I read them a story about a duck who chattered incessantly. One of our rugrats blurted out, “Boy, Chatter Duck sure chatters a lot — just like you, Daddy.”
Out of the mouths of babes. Then and now, my motored mouth rarely stops running. Even when I’m alone. Maybe even especially when I’m alone. Keeps me company, ya know.
As a shameless wind machine, my heart swelled with delight when I read that scientists had concluded that compulsively talking to oneself, […]

Achilles was a heel. Mr. Tush was a bum. Fernando was a bully.
One date had OCD and ADD, so everything had to be perfect but not for very long. He was not a fully developed person. Everything about him was partial, no wholeness to him. Partially agile — drove a semi truck part time. Semi-knowledgeable — he claimed he was proud his IQ was 20/20.
I bought one, oops I mean I met one on Craig’s List of Oye! […]