In this Western ski village where the skies are not cloudy all day (sometimes there is snow, too), Mr. Henry has been having fun teasing his adored consort each time the ski-bum waiter addresses her as â€œmaâ€™am.â€
But today the little dude-boy addressed Mr. Henry as â€œsirâ€ â€“Â not once, but three times. Cheek!
Riding the ski lift chair, Mrs. Henry struck up conversation with a teen girl from a prairie state. â€œBecause of my knee injury last year,â€ said Mrs. Henry, â€œthis year weâ€™re taking it easy and staying on the green runs.â€
â€œOh,â€ replied the precious young thing, â€œI think youâ€™re doing real good. My granner and granpa canâ€™t even get out the house anymore!â€
Such kind words. Such generosity of spirit. Arenâ€™t the holidays wonderful?
Somehow Mrs. Henry survived the holidays and her milestone birthday with her amour propre intact and, importantly, with her girlish figure intact, too. After much hand-wringing over the appropriate gift, Mr. Henry chose a camel-colored (â€œheather acornâ€) cashmere cardigan from J. Crew. (Something to wear against the skin seemed to be the right choice.) Inside the sweater he hid a Michelin map of the Benelux countries â€“ a promised trip to Bruges, Ghent, and Antwerp. She loved it.
Mr. Henry finally decided what he wants for Christmas â€“ a TSA uniform. Wearing it he can command Mrs. Henry to stand perfectly still for a pat-down. Federal regulations, maâ€™am.