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The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage and I were locked in a hopeless Mexican standoff. She was effectively arguing her side of the issue and I was, well, let's say I was not agreeing. I will not say who won, just that it wasn't me.

She then looked at me, put both hands on her hips and said, "Time will tell that I'm right."

I cannot wait. The problem is, time is never on my side. I simply do not know what it is about time, but it never does me any favors. Always, and I mean always, time proves my wife was right. I hate it.

This past week the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage and I were having a conversation. Of course, it was more like a monologue, but you know how that works.

We were thinking back over the years of our life together and reminding ourselves of some of the great and wonderful times we have had. The friends we have made. The activities we have enjoyed together. Of course, there were the grandchildren and my wife had a great time talking about the grandchildren and I chuckling along with her.

After a moment of quietness, my wife said rather seriously, “Who is the friend you miss the most?”

I pride myself with the ability to express myself with the proper wording. I enjoy words and seeing how they relate one to another. Unfortunately, it has not always the case.

I have found through the years that I have developed quite the art of stuttering. It happens at the most inconvenient moments.

It is like the story of Honest Abe Lincoln and his wife. The story is not true of course, but it is very interesting. Mrs. Lincoln asks Honest Abe, “Does this dress make me look fat?”

Vacations mean different things to different people. For me, the vacation means I am vacating one place and going to another place to do nothing.

Recently, the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage and me vacated the parsonage to go to some place where we could major on doing nothing. We have mastered this over the years.

My definition of “nothing” is quite different from my wife’s definition.