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It was after 8 AM and I had just brought Her Nurseliness home from her overnight shift at the hospital. After hanging up her coat and slipping out of her shoes, she wandered out to the kitchen to find something to eat before going to bed.

In the kitchen cupboard, she found the carton of Chef-Boy-Ar-Dee snack cups which I keep on hand mostly for our grandson. After selecting a kind that she liked, she peeled off the aluminum lid, re-installed the plastic one, and headed for the microwave.

As she did so, I jokingly commented, "Jeez, I didn't realize that you still knew how to cook."

She gave me one of those "I've-been-up-all-night-keeping-track-of-the-lunatics-in-that-asylum-and-only-some-of-them-are-patients-so-don't-mess-with-me" looks and closed the microwave door.

Unable to resist, I continued, "I guess it's like riding a bicycle. You know, once you learn how, you don't ever forget."

Then I paused, glancing at her to see if she was paying any attention to what I was saying.

She wasn't, so I concluded with, "Except that with the bicycle you don't have to eat it once you're done riding it."

Shaking her head, she walked out of the kitchen with her snack.

On her way upstairs she paused long enough to yell, "Three-thirty. Get me up at three-thirty."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I said, mostly to myself, "this isn't MY first time on two wheels either..."

LPK
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3.16.2013 (b)

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