Time Flies to…Mah-Jongg

“So how are you surviving the polar vortex?” I asked my friend, Mable.

“I hate that miserable term.  I’m sick to death of all this snow and cold, black ice and white ice, and everything in between.  Does that answer your question? “

“Sorry I asked, Mable.”  She looked pretty grim.

“Oh, please, stop with the sorry.  What about you Ms. Smug face?”

I didn’t like the sound of that remark.  “My name is Lu.”  Her nose twitched. “Well, back around Christmas, I liked it; I’m a winter person.  I like snow beauty, downy comforters, hot soup, and cozy. But when we kept getting pounded and pounded, I grew weary, I grew bored, I decided I needed something more than  weather watching to pass the time.”

Mable smiled, “Of course.”  She can be so patronizing.

“So I talked to some friends, and before you know it, I was learning to play Mah-Jongg, and I was line dancing at a park in Bolingbrook.  In fact, I played today.”

“At your age?  Well, of course you do tend to try to act youthful.”  She so graciously retorted.

I felt an urge to comment on her false eyelashes and the two red gashes on her cheeks.  Taking one of those healthy deep breaths, I thought, Mable is Mable and sometimes quite dear, so I pointed out that I was not brain dead or suffering from restricted movement syndrome.  I merely said,  “THE WEATHER MADE ME DO IT!  And I’m glad it did.”

THANKS, LIBRARY, FOR GIVING US A ROOM TO MEET.
THANKS, FU SING, FOR MAKING IT WORK
THANKS, BARB, FOR BEING A FINE TEACHER.

Lu

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