Pens and Pencils

    Yesterday we went to a 'Caregivers Luncheon' on the other side of Halifax. It was very 'poo poo,' china cups and all. I remembered to keep my pinkie up when I drank my cup of tea. There was the Master of Ceremonies and three other speakers. Each one of them started their speech by apologizing  for someone senior to them who was unable to make it. It seems they were out saving the world or something, and they found this out just an hour before the luncheon. Personally, I would rather have not known about it. Besides, I've watched the English version of 'House of Cards', I know what all that means.
    The guy next to me was a social worker, and wouldn't you know it, he was from my hometown. I left there 53 years ago, but still they find me. It's like I have a sign on my forehead, 'I'm one of the bye's from home, eh.'
    He was a great conversationalist. He told me about his tattoos and I told him that one of the nurses that came with me had a tattoo on her behind. She had a hand tattooed to each cheek, and when she walked, it looked like the hands were clapping.
    Everyone at the table had their veggies and dip and pieces of fruit. I ate two giant cookies.
    The best part was that I got a free pencil. I love pencils and pens and scrap envelopes to scribble on. Junk mail finds a home here, well, just the envelope. A few years ago, my brother Tony gave me a nice pen. He found it in a jewelry store where someone had it engraved, but didn't pick it up. It said 'Tammy, R.N.' On my last overnight visit to the hospital, one of my nurses was named Tammy. I kept the pen out of sight.
    That's enough for now, I have to go and sharpen my new pencil.