In further preparation for my upcoming trip abroad, I finally made it round to our lawyer's office to sign my new will. As Mr. Esquire is giving me a brief re-cap, he made some reference to those who might stand to gain something if the immediate family all perished. He mentioned the brother-in-law, and then mumbled something that ended with the question "How many do you have?" I assumed he meant siblings, so I said,
I have two brothers and a sister.
"No, I mean grandchildren. How many do you have?"
Loooooooooooooooong pause. He continued with:
"Er...how old are your children now?"
Six and three.
"Oh goodness."
What followed was a lot of back-tracking and apologizing, but I was too bemused to acknowledge any of it. All I could think about was that the man I just trusted to ensure the smooth dispensation of my estate thought I was a grandmother. Nothing better happen to me on this trip; I'm going to need to go through that will again with a fine tooth comb.
Perhaps the fault is not all his. Earlier in the day I was at a near-by mall looking for shirts. I was in near dispair over finding something I liked, but I finally came across a small corner in a large department store that carried a variety of conservative outfits. I was flipping slowly through the shirts, realizing that embroidered butterflies really aren't my style, when I looked around and saw that the average age of other shoppers in the area was, oh, about 75.
The day I walk out the front door wearing a purple pant suit and a red hat, I give you, my good friends, permission to use deadly force.
Must...resist...making...comment.
Must...restrain....self.
Survival....requires....it.
*gasp*
Posted by: Kevin | May 25, 2005 at 11:28 PM
What are you doing, hiring blind attorneys? Even blind, he should be able to tell from your youthful voice that you are far too young to have grandchildren. Anyone who’s seen you would assume that your children were actually younger siblings, or that you were babysitting them to make money for college. By the way, just out of curiosity, have you decided who you’re leaving your cool torture chair to?
Posted by: Sisyphus | May 25, 2005 at 11:41 PM
what's wrong with purple suits?
Posted by: chris Muir | May 26, 2005 at 12:48 AM
Have you tried Eddie Bauer for reasonably made t-shirts? Mine are from last year but I don't think they changed them too much.
Re: the lawyer -- all I can say is, heh.
Oh, and it took a while, but the whole "child vomiting" blog meme that you guys have been working on up here? Finally made it's way south to Arizona, where it got me up at 3:30 this morning. I'm not blaming you, mind you, just though you'd like to know. (heh, again)
Posted by: Joan | May 26, 2005 at 03:12 AM
Young Jedi...you passed the test. Congratulations. You live another day.
Sisyphus...darling. I'm disinherting my kids; you get it all.
Joan - sorry to hear about the vomiting kids. It's like yawning; once someone starts...Hope your little one is feeling better today.
Posted by: St. Kate | May 26, 2005 at 08:05 AM
hon, you look about 22. In fact, you look too young to have kids 3 and 6. David agrees. Us greyhairs get almost all our clothes at Lands End Inlet.
Posted by: housemouse | May 26, 2005 at 08:27 AM
To late Margaret, I get everything.
Posted by: Sisyphus | May 26, 2005 at 10:51 AM
Purple pant suit? You mean like the one that I saw at the Minnesota Historical place in Saint Paul about twelve years ago? The one that Prince wore in Purple Rain? That one?
You might as well wear the pajamas that made you the Belle of the Ball at Keegan's a few months ago.
Posted by: Dave in Pgh. | May 26, 2005 at 12:18 PM
No, Dave, I've already called dibs on the PJs.
Posted by: kb | May 26, 2005 at 01:25 PM