Not To Be Trusted With Knives

Thirty-four years ago today, in the town where my parents lived¹, there was a blizzard.  And my then-very pregnant mother said to my father, “Jack, you better shovel the driveway, in case the baby comes early.” And so my father shovelled that driveway, in a blizzard, just to be sure that they’d be able to get out of that driveway and to the hospital in case I decided to arrive a day early. Which I did.

I hope everyone enjoyed a delightful Bethmas Eve. I did.

1. and still live, actually [↩]

Tags: family, nostalgia, rampant narcissism

This entry was posted on Monday, January 10th, 2011 at 11:22 pm and is filed under family, me, nostalgia, rampant narcissism. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.