MEMORIES MONDAY. The Beginning

Welcome to Memories Monday!  This is how it all began.

January’s Over!

February 11:  I’m so glad January’s over.  Not that February is anything to write home about.  But at least there’s Valentine’s Day.  Today my co-worker Margaret and I ran out to the mall at lunch.  I got the girls shirts with hearts and a Spiderman t-shirt for Josh.  At least it’s red.  Maybe I can find some silly things in the dollar store. 

Margaret just sends cards to her niece and nephew.  (Isn’t it funny how English doesn’t have a gender neutral word for one’s sibling’s children?  Or one’s siblings for that matter.  Of course that’s never been a problem for me, having only a half-sister.)  But Margaret gives them each ten dollars!  We got back just in time and had to eat our lunch on our break. 

Anyway, I have to take the kids out tonight to get something for Ed.  Maybe a red tie or red socks or boxers with hearts.  That way, they can remind him to take them out to get something for me.  It’s not that I want anything, but it would be embarrassing if I had something for him and he didn’t have anything for me.

Valentine’s Day is Sunday.  I promised to bring something for Coffee Hour and I think I’ll make cupcakes and put Valentine sprinkles on them.  Maybe they even have little candy hearts.  I can get some conversation hearts, too, and put them on some.  (My friend Karen told me that she saw some dirty conversation hearts in the fancy candy store.  Maybe I should get a bag for Ed.  But what if I got them mixed up and put them on the church cupcakes?  Karen says I have the mind of a situation comedy writer.  Maybe she’s right.)

Dear Reader, I don’t know what you think of this, but I’m having fun.  Let me know.

A SPECIAL BONUS POST FOR THE FIRST MEMORIES MONDAY

 

February 13 A Terrible Thing Has Happened!

A terrible thing has happened!  Margaret was stabbed to death in her own house.  I was making the cupcakes for church when I heard it on the radio.  Fortunately Ed had taken the kids out shopping.

If a casting director had wanted a perfect librarian, he or she would have found her in Margaret.  She was in her fifties, had never married and was a Republican and a Methodist. She dyed her hair but wore it short.  Her clothes were nice enough, suits and dresses that looked expensive.  Not that I would know for sure.  We’d worked together for years, but had never progressed to the point of talking about how much things cost. 

Mostly we talked about books.  I had never had anyone I could talk about Dickens with or who understood when I said I had a “love-hate relationship with Jane Austen.”

I feel like I’m in one of those mystery novels in which everyone keeps saying, “How could this happen here?” 

I called Karen, and she said, “Almost in the family.”  I guess it is.