The Post That Will Likely End All Further Correspondence

Last August, while visiting my Aunt Jacque in Indianapolis, Jacque and my mom were talking and giggling late into the night. Their conversation turned toward listing the things they'd like to do or see before they die. My mom mentioned that she's always wanted to go to the Opera, and how that was near the top of her wish list. And what do you think my Aunt Jacque got her for her birthday?

Opera tickets.

For the two of them to see Carmen last Sunday.

Mom was so excited when the playbill announcing their date arrived! She read it and celebrated her great fortune and her sister's thoughtfulness... right up until the moment she looked at my dad and cried in dismay, "Ohhhhh, it's in French! I thought it would be in Italian!"

I wasn't there, but in the retelling of this story, I came to understand that Dad looked right at her, with tears of laughter filling his eyes, and hilarity shaking his body, and said, "What difference does it make? You can't understand either!"

And while Dad sat there in hysterics, laughing harder every time he thought of her distress, Mom lost it as well, and through their laughter she had to concede that Dad was correct, as she neither understood French, nor Italian.

I supposed she had a good time. We haven't talked in a few days.

And then today, another one of her Famous Postcards arrived in the mail:

"Hi Paige Suzanne!

The opera was fantastic and Carmen was a slut!!

Center stage 6 rows back.

xoOmm"

Yup! She had a good time. :)