THE STICKY BOOK

Blog number 391 **** 28 May 2009

My granddaughter, who must remain nameless unless I deign to suffer verbal beatings from close family members, graduated college a couple of weeks ago. I bought my granddaughter a book by Bill Bryson, an author we both know and like, because the books we have read of his have been funny. This one started off funny, so I bought it as a gift for my graduating granddaughter. Oh hell, let's call my granddaughter, "Sue." Ok?

My wife, let's call her "Eloise," and my son. let's call him, "Zipper."

So, I bought the book, inscribed it, "To Sue, something about graduating and wishes, signed, Grandpa."

I started reading the book a bit while waiting for the graduating ceremonies to end and discovered it was a very boring book. It was written like a text book for a language major. I left it under my chair for whomever wanted it.

Today Eloise gets a call from Sue and Sue tells Eloise that a lady tracked her down and told her that her grandpa must have forgotten her present.

I can't think of a way to tie this all together.

I am not a professional writer.

I am not a professional anything.

What I do best is fail.

But that's not a profession,

Is it?