Trolls can smell the dreams you dreamed before you were born
I went out to dinner with Dan tonight and then we watched Sideways. I accidentally stole his Red Sox hat.
Once during the war my Nana and a friend of hers planned a dance at some hall in East Boston for the sailors. They contacted the USO who said they would send over the soldiers if the girls took care of everything else. They decorated the hall, got some local musicians to play for free and brought a bus load of girls. The sailors never showed. My nana, in responce, got on the bus with her friend and drove around until they came upon a gaggle of sailors, not long after. She invited them to the dance at the hall, where the rest of the girls still waited, disappointed at the lack of potential babies' daddys' and wound up going back with a bus load of soldiers. The dance was a wild success.
She told me that story last night over pie while her husband, a former WWII soldier was lying in the hospital, where it seems all they can do is make him comfortable for the time being. He's still there now. My Uncle is staying at her house tonight. He's heard all her stories and laughs when she gets confused. It can be funny, I'll admit, but not while she's trying to distract herself from the fatct that her husband of 60 years is dying.
Here I sit, wondering when my boyfriend is going to work out his internship and when I'll have enough money to do the abstract things I want. Trivial.
Once during the war my Nana and a friend of hers planned a dance at some hall in East Boston for the sailors. They contacted the USO who said they would send over the soldiers if the girls took care of everything else. They decorated the hall, got some local musicians to play for free and brought a bus load of girls. The sailors never showed. My nana, in responce, got on the bus with her friend and drove around until they came upon a gaggle of sailors, not long after. She invited them to the dance at the hall, where the rest of the girls still waited, disappointed at the lack of potential babies' daddys' and wound up going back with a bus load of soldiers. The dance was a wild success.
She told me that story last night over pie while her husband, a former WWII soldier was lying in the hospital, where it seems all they can do is make him comfortable for the time being. He's still there now. My Uncle is staying at her house tonight. He's heard all her stories and laughs when she gets confused. It can be funny, I'll admit, but not while she's trying to distract herself from the fatct that her husband of 60 years is dying.
Here I sit, wondering when my boyfriend is going to work out his internship and when I'll have enough money to do the abstract things I want. Trivial.