I’ve told you how hilarious it is to shop with our daughter, Nicole. She can instantly make up funny titles for every top or pair of pants I pull from the rack. That looks like Pocahontas meets the Cosby Show. That’s an I-Give-Up top. Why not just say, “I’m a felt board?” Is that a tablecloth or a skirt? That looks like the costume for a little rain cloud in the school play.
And then, of course, I can’t think of anything else when I look at it, so I put it back.
But now I know where she got it. It’s a genetic inheritance from St. Bob. He recently asked me if I knew how valuable I am. What a sweet thing for a hubby to say, right? I smiled.
Then he said, “That’s the biggest bar code I’ve ever seen. You could buy an aircraft carrier with that.”
I looked down at my pants. Here they are—I’m sitting with my legs crossed. He’s right—they DO look like a giant bar code!
At least he didn’t say I look like an aircraft carrier.
Some of my humor novels have a character who bears a striking resemblance to St. Bob. Check ‘em out here.