Friday, February 03, 2006

When I got back to my desk this afternoon after a "Mad Libs" session, I found a voicemail from my mother instructing me to call my grandmother and, "tell her what the vowels are." Which was the oddest request that I've had recently, but I'm a good daughter and so I called.
Apparently, an argument was raging in my mother's house this afternoon because my grandmother had never heard of, "and sometimes y." My opinion--because my degree was in English and evidently is supposed to mean something--was required. Unfortunately for me, the addition of "y" was not what my grandmother wanted to hear, and I was ordered to cease thinking of it as a possible fill-in vowel posthaste.
My mother, in the background, was shrieking with laughter. I didn't even ask how the subject came up.

(Also, I have spent the last few evenings self-medicating with lots of cocktails and many, many pitchers of beer. I only point this out because one of my New Years resolutions was to hydrate better while drinking--or, at least, afterwards--to have fewer hangovers. I have so far not yet shown up to the office hung over. Yay me.)

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