Fish Mouth

Growing up I spent a lot of time at the home of my best friends (“the twins”). Their mother was kind of a loud, domineering woman whom I loved dearly. She treated me as one of her own, hitting me with the wooden spoon just like she did her real kids. (It’s okay; it was the 70s.) She’s also the one who named me fish mouth. A name I no doubt deserved then and apparently still do.

At a recent lunch with friends, the conversation turned to the subject of online dating when I staunchly proclaimed, “I would never use one of those dating sites!”

What I should have said was, I know quite a few people who are in great relationships that started online.

One would think after fifty or so years I might have learned to think before I open my fish mouth. What can I say? Apparently, I am still a work in progress who could occasionally use a good whack with the wooden spoon.