In 1997, the year we had a warm brown Christmas and posed on the lawn in our shirt sleeves, Ella's side of the family had Christmas in Rosetown at the home of Ella's brother Kirk.
Some background here. Kirk and Ruth went from 0 to 6 kids in two years. They adopted two older children, brother and sister, whose arrival coincided to the birth of a daughter. Two years later they had triplet girls who were 13 by this time. The house was full of teenagers, less than quiet and more than a little chaotic. Like good Christmases are supposed to be.
The men were sitting around the table comparing cell phones, since we each had one and they were a relatively new toy, at least to us. Clunkers compared to present day models but certainly smaller than the earlier "suitcase" models. Cell phones, by the way, are the ONLY thing that one man will brag to another that his is smaller.
I went upstairs to the bathroom. No toilet paper. None, nada. (When will I learn to look first? When I am not in a rush. When is that likely to happen?) Obviously the spare rolls, assuming there actually were some, were in a different part of the house. What to do? Yelling was useless as one could not be heard over kids and TVs. Hey, my cell phone is in my jacket pocket.
Ring, ring.
"Hello"
"Ruth, could you send someone upstairs with some toilet paper, please?"
She did, once she quit laughing.
Good invention, cell phones.
Guess I'd have to do the knee clenched walk to the storage closet. No cell phone. ;-)
ReplyDeleteFor whom the bell rings.
ReplyDeleteAs my cousin used to say, "I put all my money in toilet paper and revolving doors and was wiped out before I could turn around".
ReplyDelete