pooflady wrote:An old roommate and I keep in touch on our birthdays. The conversations keep getting longer and longer. Last night we were 15 minutes short of six hours. Nothing special, just chat.
We can't chat like we used to, but we have our ways. One trick is to tell stories that don't go anywhere. Like the time I caught the ferry to Shelbyville. I needed a new heel for my shoe. So, I decided to go to Morganville, which is what they called Shelbyville in those days. So I tied an onion to my belt, which was the style at the time. Now, to take the ferry cost a nickel, and in those days nickels had pictures of bumble bees on them. Gimme five bees for a quarter, you'd say. Now was I... Oh yeah! The important thing was that I had an onion tied to my belt at the time. You couldn't get white onions, because of the war. The only thing you could get was those big yellow ones.