I pick up Meems and Leonard for church on Sundays. Without fail, Meems calls me at around 8:00 on Saturday night and asks without so much as a howdy-do, "I guess you're going to pick us up for church in the morning?" "Yep." "What time?" "The usual." "A little bit after 10?" "10:05-ish." "At my patio?" [Heaven forbid that she would have to walk all the way to Raider Ranch's front door.] "Yep. At your patio." "Bye bye." "Bye, Mom."
As he gets into the car, the first question Leonard asks without fail is "Where's Alan?" "He's at church." "Oh. He's already there." [pause] "Is he leading today?" "Yep. He's leading today." "That's what I thought." (Alan is one of the worship hosts at our church's "groovy" service.)
Last Sunday after Leonard learned of Alan's whereabouts, Meems told me about her dream.
Meems: I dreamed that I evaluated Cindee Millard last night, and she didn't like my evaluation.
[Cindee is a dear, dear sisterfriend of mine. I couldn't for the life of me figure out why Meems would think - or dream - about evaluating her.]
Me: Why were you evaluating Cindee?
Meems: I can't remember. I just remember that she didn't like my evaluation.
Me: Hmm. You just evaluated her. Well, my goodness.
Meems: I do remember that I gave her an A+ for what she was wearing.
Leonard: She should have been happy about that because A+ is as high as you can get.
Me: Yeah, Mom. A+ is as high as you can get.
Meems: Her clothes were cute. I can't remember what it was that I scored her low on.
Leonard: Is Vladamir Putin married?
Oh, my. Our Sunday morning drives to church. Me, Miss Daisy and Hoke.
For the record: Cindee, I give you A+++ in ALL categories - especially in haute couture.
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