Jerry Nelson
The days have warmed, the grass is green and the last vestiges of the glacial snowbank in our grove have finally disappeared. This can mean only one thing: it’s the sailing season.
Let me clarify that. What I mean is that it’s the rummage sailing season. I know this because this is the time of year when my wife will prepare to leave and I’ll ask, “Where are you going?” and she’ll reply with a casual air, “Oh, I don’t know. Sailing, I guess.”
Her casualness is somewhat of a ruse. I know that she has been secretly planning for a sailing expedition due to the large number of $1 and $5 bills that have suddenly appeared in her purse. And don’t ask why I was snooping through, I mean, examining, the contents of my wife’s purse. (If you need to know, it involved misjudging the spice level of a mega-large burrito and an urgent antacid emergency.)
5/10/2021 The days have warmed, the grass is green, and the last vestiges of the glacial snowbank in our grove have finally disappeared. This can mean only one thing: It’s the sailing season. Let me clarify that. What I mean is that it’s the rummage sailing season. I know this because this is the time of year when my wife will prepare to leave and I’ll ask, “Where are you going?” and she’ll reply with a casual air, “Oh, I don’t know. Sailing, I guess.” Her casualness is somewhat of a ruse. I know that she has been secretly planning for a sailing expedition due to the large number of $1 and $5 bills that have suddenly appeared in her purse. And don’t ask why I was snooping through, I mean, examining, the contents of my wife’s purse. (If you need to know, it involved misjudging the spice level of a mega-large burrito and an urgent antacid emergency.)