If You Want to Get Down.... Cocaine

My mom, Roberta, aka “The Bertinator” rolled into town on Monday which always generates grist for my writing mill. Andrea and I are hosting game night tonight, which always calls to mind the time that Bert participated in a similar night at condo years prior.

Another couple came over and we played Taboo. My mom, Andrea and our friend Sean were on a team and another girl was paired up with me. My mom gave urgent and completely useless clues to her teammates. The clues would have been useful had the group hailed from the Chicago area, as mom and I did, but they’d grown up in Massachusetts.

“Shedd!” Mom said. “Field!”

“Farm?” Andrea guessed, much to The Bertinator’s frustration until I intervened.

“Mom – they didn’t grow up in Chicago.”

“What was it?” Andrea asked.

“Museums.” I replied, taking the point for my team which was a lot like taking candy from a baby.

(Note: Carefully choose your team for Taboo if you’re joining us for game night.)

While eating out on Tuesday evening, The Bertinator shared some of the joys of aging with us.

“Your nose runs. I’d always wondered why your grandma was always wiping her nose!”

I leaned over towards Andrea and in a conspiratorial tone said, “Cocaine.” To which Andrea, knowing this to be untrue, burst out laughing.

“What?” The Bertinator asked.

“Cocaine.”

“What?!”

“CO-CAINE.” I said, wondering who was overhearing me talk about cocaine in a booth at the Horseshoe Pub.

Later that night, Andrea said, “That was funny – but it lost something when you had to repeat it a few times. Apparently hearing is impacted when you age, this in addition to cocaine nose. Stay tuned, readers. Later this weekend, I will write about the "sandwich machine"....

“If you want to hang out, you’ve got to take her out,

cocaine

If you want to get down, get down on the ground,

Cocaine.” – J.J. Cale/Eric Clapton