I Hope You're In Your Sunday Best

Because once you read this e-mail you can skip church, Amen, and go to brunch.

Sent last night to her lovely daughters:

Hi Girls,

Ina claims that whenever she brings in cookies to work--or has brought them in, no one likes them. This is the case of classic family cookies, such as the rolled oatmeal cookies. So she stopped. This week she cleaned out her freezer and found a Nestles brownie breakup. She baked them and put them in the kitchen there. Someone asked her who made them. She replied--boldfaced--"I have no idea." The nurse said, "They are delicious." I teased her for lying as she so rarely lies. Then I asked her if she had told Grandpa that her hospital has golf cart type vehicles to transport patients etc. She went to the hospital pharmacy to pick up a prescription and an old man, a volunteer like Gramps, told her to hop in. She said she could not tell him because he does not know she has a prescription--blood pressure. I said she had to because he would love to have such a cart at his hospital. So she said, "Well, I guess I could rearrange the details." !!!!! So none of you have to lie again--just rearrange the details.
Love, MOM

The point here, said the Word of Winifred, is to rearrange the details. My Aunt, whose real name isn't Ina, doesn't lie. I'm still shocked that an office would be so unappreciative, because not only does Aunt Ina remind me of Ina Garten, but she does make tasty baked goods. That's crap. Let's discuss over hash browns. I'll see you at Ihop in five.