Since the last post, my vacation in Milwaukee ended and I went home. A week later my sister flew to Austria to accompany me for the first half of my three weeks in an oncological rehabilitation center – a place we affectionately refer to as “the Gulag” and where we have continued to have profound conversations that set off eruptions of giggles for two hours afterwards. (I say two hours, but I just had another one while writing this and it has been two days.) Anyway, here’s the latest one.
So, we are sitting on a bench in front of the center looking up at it, when Bonnie asks:
“What do you suppose the meaning of that logo is?”
“Pff. I don’t know. Maybe ‘Make a wish’?”
“Or maybe ‘He loves me’.”
“Or . . . ‘You’ve got a one in eight chance.’ “