On the day I left NJ, my mother hugged me from her stair lift chair so tightly that if she had hit the wrong button she surely would have broken my neck and dragged my body up the stairs. I imagine by the fifth stair she would have realized what had occurred and in a panic would reverse directions and run over my corpse.
Once I was safely out of her clutches and 3,000 miles away I called Sybil to thank her for the lovely visit.
Barry: I'm home. Thanks for the tickets.
Sybil: When are you coming again? I enjoyed your visit even if you yelled at me. I just found a picture from your second grade class. I never liked Miss Lolk (my second grade teacher).
Barry: Will let you know. Bye.
Within the week my brother will be visiting Sybil. I would let him guest blog, but I'm too much of a control freak. Seriously what if his writing is better than mine? Hopefully he will give me the details so I can write about his trip or I guess I could read it in the police blotter.
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