Many years ago my wife was to knitting what Tiger Woods is to golf. She designed exotic patterns with ease.
There was an occasion when we had lunch in an authentic Chinese restaurant (only one person spoke partial English, all menus were in Chinese). When she saw the hand-written menu she was so impressed with the calligraphy she tucked the menu in her purse. Some months later I saw the result, a stunning white sweater with the Chinese symbols hand-stitched down the front.
She received compliments galore until one cocktail party when we met a distinguished Chinese physician who asked my wife where she got the symbols. He then wanted to know if she knew what they meant.
“I’m afraid to ask,” she said, “but tell me anyway.”
Even she had to laugh when he told her they read, “This is a cheap dish – but good.”
In my car in the mall parking lot and a lady can’t find her car. Every time she holds her key in the air, I honk my horn.