It was a lovely evening. We finish-lined ourselves through the last push to rentability at Hannah's Honeymoon Hideaway on Block Island, began drinking dark 'n' stormies and many Becks and Amstel Lights, welcomed Michael and family, picked everybody up at the ferry, lit a fire with the collected scrapwood when suddenly
A Stranger Arrived
And Threw His Shoes Onto the Fire
This, I am assume, is American version of Hindu suttee.
ReplyDeleteLi has question, Lady Goddess.
ReplyDeleteWhat kind wife wears this non-she shoe?
Omigod, Mr. Li. Shoes. Not Shes. Shoes. It was a typo. I fixed it.
ReplyDeleteYou have spoilt my fine joke. Please to revert to Shes. Blogging must be like moves in game of Sorry, or Trouble, or Wisk.
ReplyDeleteOnce hand of off playing piece, in Lady's case, word: then this move, or blog thing, cannot, must not, be change.
That's Risk, Dear Uncle. Is game of strategy.
ReplyDeleteLike Pearl Harbor, but with small wooden army.