We were on our way to Starbucks for Saturday morning mochas, and she said she needed to pick up a few things at the grocery store. So, we went into the grocery store and got the couple things she needed. She was standing by a display, just looking ... and thinking. It was a display of kitchen utensils, except that prominently displayed was a white-handled stylish ice pick.
We went farther down the aisle and came to a display of sale items -- one-third off wooden boxes and baskets. She said, "We could get one of those boxes for the ashes, next time someone gets cremated." I laughed.
I laughed ... funny. Why the hell do we need an ice pick in this day and age? We have an ice maker and, failing that, ice cube trays. And the container for ashes?
Hmmm ... I better start writing my novel.
Posted by Bill at November 1, 2003 01:16 PMHmmm. Stacey? Comment? This I gotta hear. Er, read.
Posted by: Crazy Girl at November 1, 2003 03:53 PMI think you should Bill because I cannot afford a trip to Cleveland unless its for your book signing and you have subsidised the trip from your ultra large expense account. I will speak to Stacey and ask her to hold off any thoughts of using an ice pick anywhere near your vicinity until you become ultra rich from your best selling novel.
Posted by: Michelle at November 1, 2003 06:08 PM