"So, did God say 'This is my Son,' or was it that bird who said it?"
By "that bird," I'm assuming he meant the form of a dove that the Holy Spirit took, and I have a hard time envisioning the Holy Spirit speaking, beak rattling off words...
After I shoved a sugar cookie at him, Weston said:
"I feel like the Boswells are always supplying me with food."
Maybe so. Two Sundays in a row, he ate lunch at our house. There was cake each time. Perhaps we're actually his sugar providers.
During the writing lab that I facilitate for some international students:
"What if I write about prostitution?"
Um...like, the legalization of prostitution? I bet Union professors don't see that very often.
While having our weekly English conversation visit with our Iranian friends and playing "Apples to Apples":
"I am your wife! Pick my card!"
Ha! Apparently, that's an international sentiment.
Colorful characters in my life. So colorful.
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