I suppose some stories shouldn’t be retold but this isn't one of those kind blogs. I figure my mom won't mind and I know my dad won't because of the fact that I heard the story from him at least a dozen times over the years.
I've said before that we liked to take trips to Canada. We had friends and relatives all over Alberta. We would leave town and not come back for a couple of weeks. It was nice up there and many a story came from the place where they say, "A".
One night in Canada, my mom went out to play cards with some friends at someone’s house. (I‘m not saying who…) They played for hours and my mom came back just as happy as can be. She just wouldn't settle down.
"So what did you guys do all-night," my dad asked.
"We played cards!" she excitedly answered.
"Did you eat anything?" he asked.
"Only some brownies," she answered back rinsing out a wash cloth.
"Did you smoke anything,” he asked.
"Just my cigarettes and I stopped that because of the smoke," she said as she began to clean the counter of the camper.
"Smoke from?" he asked.
"They didn't open any windows and it got really, ‘smokey’ plus the cheap cigarettes they smoked stunk up the place," she answered wiping the campers counter for the third time sense she had returned.
"Honey those were cigarettes, they were smoking Wacky-tobackie and you are high as a kite."
"No!" she answered, looking in to the fridge for something to eat.
"Yeah and I think the brownies my have had a little something in the too!" he laughed.
He never really let her live that done and I guess now it is my turn.
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