Whats UP down South

Uhhhhh,,,I need some uninterrupted sleep REALLY bad. After finally finding a spot that my back would allow me to lay on about 1:00 am, I slept in starts and stops all night. Maybe it's time to get serious about losing some major pounds to see if that won't ease the strain on my poor, old back.

I've been thinking a lot about my time in England since I blogged about it the other day. The twin friends keep popping into my head and it makes me wonder where they are and what they are doing 32 years down the road from then.

Linda and Lorna looked so unalike that it was difficult to even believe they were sisters. Linda took after her father's side of the family with blondish, curly hair, brown eyes, a small, delicate build, while Lorna was of sturdier stock, sporting dark, dark hair, blue eyes, with every hair on her body as straight as a 2X4. Linda looked as though she'd walked out of a fashion mag, even in her school uniform, Lorna as though she'd been in a street fight and lost. Of the two, Lorna and I were closer. Linda merely tolerated us, mainly because her mom figured her virtue would remain intact if Lorna and I tagged along.

One evening, at her mom's insistence, Linda allowed us accompany her on a hot date. The plan was to watch telly with the boyfriend since his parents were out of town so she was not at all happy with having us along. After an hour or so of kissy cuddle on the sofa with our giggles and snickers adding to the TVs' background noises, the boyfriend decided that he was hungry and that Lorna and I should go downstairs to the kitchen and make him a sandwich. We were all pissy about having to leave the live show but we tripped down the stairs to make Casanova his sandwich. I'm not sure which of us came up with the brilliant idea, but when we opened the fridge, the first thing we zeroed in on was an opened, tinfoil covered can of KitKat cat food. It looked like deviled ham, smelled like deviled ham, and it even spread like deviled ham on both sides of the bread slices.

Yep, we did it. We took that sandwich back to Linda's handsome date and watched him eat every bite along with the chips and pickle we'd thoughtfully put on the plate. Only then did we tell him what he'd just eaten. Linda didn't speak to us on the way home, or the next week, or the next. I seem to remember her mentioning that she'd rather die an old maid than to ever be seen with us again.