Well, only one more birthday this week, and we are all done for a couple weeks. Maggie’s sister, Barb, is having a birthday on the 17th. She will be 27 years old.
This post will be dedicated to Barb…
I beat her husband in racquetball.
He is a young stud, and I am an old mule. But I still beat him.
I haven’t played more than a couple games of racquetball in over 8 years. But I still beat him. Barb is very upset. She really was talking it up about how he was going to roll me. She seemed to have the utmost confidence. In fact, they even bet dinner on it. What did I bet? I bet that I would buy health insurance for everyone in my company from Bobby (her husband) if he beat me. Call me confident.
Seriously… He is a good athlete. Very quick, very strong. I had a slight advantage… 20 years of racquetball at a very high level. You play that long, it takes a while to forget how to play. But this isn’t about Bobby, or me, or even racquetball. It’s about Barb.
Barb Kirby. That pretty much sums up everything I know about her. She doesn’t talk to me much. She thinks I am weird. Yeah. I know. “What’s HER problem?” I don’t know. She’s really nice. Fun, pretty, smart. A teacher! You’d think she’d have better judgment! But… this isn’t about me, it’s about her.
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