I was waiting tables in a noisy lobster restaurant in Maine when a vacationing Southerner stumped me with a drink order. I approached the bartender. “Have you ever heard of a drink called ‘Seven Young Blondes’?” I asked.
He admitted he’d never heard of it, and grabbed a drink guidebook to look it up. Unable to find the recipe, he then asked me to go back and tell the patron that he’d be happy to make the drink if he could list the ingredients for him. “Sir,” I asked the customer, “can you tell me what’s in that drink?”
He looked at me like I was crazy. “It’s wine,” he said, pronouncing his words carefully, “Sauvignon blanc.”
Just before Easter, I remarked to my husband that with the children grown and away from home, this was the first year that we hadn’t dyed eggs and had an Easter-egg hunt.
“That’s all right, honey,” he said. “We can just hide each other’s vitamin pills.”
My sister was busy getting ready to host our entire family for Easter. On her to-do list was a hair appointment for her daughter.
"So, Katie," said the stylist as the little girl got up in the chair, "who’s coming to your house this weekend with big ears and floppy feet?"
Katie replied, "I think it’s my Uncle Brian."