Deers in Headlights

Each Sunday after church, our parish holds a big social hour with strong, plentiful coffee and foods from several different cultures. (Mr. Sulfa's favorite is Ethiopian spongy bread with meat and veggies.) A most delightful breaking of the fast while enjoying fellowship with other church members.

Once, as my dear husband and I were loading our styrofoam cups with that caffeinated nectar of the gods, a friend of his family's approached us. She is very sweet and funny, but has a heavy Romanian accent and only a mediocre grasp of the English language.

All of the sudden, her eyes caught ours. She blurts out, "Hey! You need adoption? You let me know!"

No doubt, Mr. Sulfa and I had a serious deer-in-headlight thing going on. We glanced at each other, telepathically exchanging thoughts:

She knows!

Holy crap! Who told her?

And finally:

Wait, does she work for the state or something? Maybe she can pull some strings.



Then she shouted, "I adopt you!" And laughed hysterically.

We exchanged a silent phew!, then joined in the laughter.




Oh, then Mr. Sulfa says, "You should post this on your blog."