In honor of Bloggers for Movember, I’m reblogging this post in honor of the best teacher I ever had who died suddenly and far too soon. This is for you Mr. Schwartz.
I cannot tell a lie. Not a fib, falsehood, untruth, tall tale, or fabrication. Don’t bother to ask me to get someone to their surprise party under false pretenses because I won’t be able to pull it off. I’ve tried – believe me I have. I’m a complete & utter failure when it comes to fibbery (ok, I can’t lie but I can make up words…I wonder if that’s a form of a linguistics lie? Hmmmmm….).
It’s not virtue – it’s the result of thick, white tights.
When I was younger – in 2nd grade, we lived in the village of Shoreham on Long Island (New York). It was a lovely quaint village ‘burb. Where kids played outside, we had block parties; Moms’ had coffee klatches and played Mahjong…very Erma Bombeck. And, because it was a village – it was small. We all knew one another.
As I mentioned…
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