The Misunderstanding

Many years ago, on our wedding anniversary, I gave Terry a card that said, "He who chooses an owl for a companion must put up with a certain number of dead mice."  I picked out this particular card for him because I was grateful that he had chosen me for a companion in spite of my foibles. I knew I was not easy to live with, so the saying seemed humorous and to the point.  He especially loved that card.  It's probably still around the house, stuck in a book somewhere, although I doubt if we could find it.  We hardly need to: We took the saying to our hearts, and it became part of our repertoire. 

We have a volume of witty remarks, clever sayings, punch lines from jokes, and cartoon captions in our heads.  We use them in situations that may or may not be similar to the origin of the line.  It's our own personal brand of humor - like a secret language between us.  Sometimes in a group we'll catch each other's eye, see suppressed laughter, and know we are thinking of the same punch line.  We've used "He who chooses an owl..." in this way from time to time... not needing the whole sentence, but just the opening phrase that we know the other will mentally complete like the closing of a synapse.

For some reason the line came up recently in a conversation over dinner, and Terry commented that it still applies.  I thought I'd improved with age, so I replied, "I know I'm still an owl, but I'd hoped that I leave fewer dead mice on your doorstep than in earlier years."  A funny look came over his face.  "But I'm the owl..." he said.  "That's why I loved the card so much; because you chose me for a companion and have been willing to put up with more than a few dead mice!"

When we stopped laughing, I set him straight on who I saw as the owl when I gave him the card. After all these years, I'm glad we've finally cleared up this misunderstanding!

The Train Is Leaving the Station

Hell has frozen over. By popular demand (well, sort of) of my granddaughters, Gramma is starting a blog. This is exceedingly brave of me, as I am among the technologically impaired. But there are family stories to be shared. Blackmail is such an ugly word; let's just call it a vicious threat. I make no promises as to frequency of posts, but stay tuned and we shall see.