Old-fashioned parade in Lawrence, Kansas
that may, or may not be, in my honor
On the phone yesterday, I reminded
Cathy Hamilton, my Kansas-based co-conspirator, "I'm arriving Thursday at 4:05, God willing." Even though she currently feels like ka-ka, what with the sinus issues, she couldn't have been more elated. That is, until I asked her if all the important arrangements had been made on my behalf. "Your room is ready, Madame," she said. "Not those arrangements," I said. "I bought the real cream for your coffee, m'lady, per your instructions." "Not those arrangements, either," I said. "Then what arrangements are you talking about, your highness?" "The parade, Cathy." "What parade?" "The parade you promised to throw in my honor when I came back." "I never promised you a parade, missy." "You never promised me a rose garden. You
did too promise me a parade." "I'll get right on it." "That's my girl."
Our first official performance: Valentine's Day
The Fish Tank in Kansas City
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