Marsha Reichle says Sarah Stravinska’s story about being a busy mother and forgetting to boil the Easter eggs reminded her of this Easter egg tale:

“As a working mother, with the usual harried holiday preparations I managed to get the eggs boiled, but decided sensibly to forgo the dyeing part.

“I just got a marking pen and labeled each egg with an appropriate color name: ‘pink,’ ‘green,’ ‘multi,’ whatever.

“My family seemed to find it just as rewarding to select a ‘blue’ egg by name as by color.

“Of course, their expectations of me as a domestic goddess were realistically low.”

Grace note

Judy B. says this is a favorite story of her husband’s family:

“When his brother Doug was 5, their parents decided to enroll him in the Catholic parochial school near their house, even though they were Protestants.

“One evening before dinner Doug suddenly said, ‘Wait, I forgot something.’

“He started drawing wavy lines in the air with his finger and said, ‘Hail on Mary, full of haste.’

“You gotta love kids!”

Recycling blues

Lynne Roux says, “My family was not a fan of leftovers, so I mostly cooked meals that didn’t have anything left.

“My mother kept my sons for a week while my husband and I were away.

“When I returned, I asked my son, ‘How was it with Maw Maw?’

“He replied, ‘It was OK — but she re-used her food a lot.’”

Snow day

Marjorie Whalen has this wedding disaster story:

“Dennis and I were to marry on a Saturday in February in the middle of Nebraska.

“The day before, he left with his best man to pick up my sister, the bridesmaid, at her college in Lincoln.

“On the way back, they ran into the worst snow-blowing storm, and finally had to stop.

“That morning they found they were parked above a steep embankment.

“Dennis set out to find a farmhouse with a phone (no cellphones in 1954).

“He finally got through and said they were safe, but had to wait for a snowplow to open the highway.

“So we got married on a Sunday (which the Catholic church didn’t usually allow), in shirt-sleeve weather.

“Dennis always bragged about spending the night with the bridesmaid before his wedding.”

Which reminds me

One of the biggest laughs I can recall came courtesy of the above-mentioned Dennis Whalen.

When Lady Katherine and I went to the Arzi’s Restaurant on Government Street for dinner, I spotted Dennis dining there and said hello.

A short time later the waiter showed up with a tall glass and presented it to me.

“Compliments of Mr. Whalen,” he told me. “Enjoy.”

The glass contained ice water.

Precocious customer

Joan Hall, of Baton Rouge, says our Saturday story of the 3-year-old with restaurant savvy “reminds me of when my now-21-year-old niece Hayley was about 3 or 4 years old.

“We liked to eat at Ye Olde College Inn in New Orleans, famous for seafood and good Italian dishes.

“The waitress came around to ask us what we wanted, and Hayley said, ‘I’ll have a cold beer and some boiled crawfish.’

“The lady said, ‘We don’t serve crawfish,’ to which Hayley replied, ‘Yes you do, because I saw it on the sign outside.’”

Turns out it was a sign advertising lobsters.

Joan says Hayley didn’t get either her beer or her crawfish that day.

(And I rather doubt she got the lobster, either...)

Nice People Dept.

“Two senior citizens” thank “a young man with two daughters who bought our lunch at the Chili’s in Gonzales. You made our day!”

Special People Dept.

H.A. Fontenot celebrated his 98th birthday on Monday, March 30.

Plenty of nothing

Patrick Howard, of Zachary, has this response to the comment by Dan Burkhalter, the Carencro Curmudgeon, who said in the Monday column that he had started out with nothing and still has most of it:

“I don’t know if you invested yours, but I’ve doubled mine, and now have twice as little as I used to have. Or is it twice as less?

“Oh well, I think you know what I mean.”

Practical math

Carl Spillman tells this story of an educational experience:

The teacher asks little Johnny if he knows his “one to 10s” well.

“Yes! Of course!” Johnny says. “My pop taught me…even more than 10.”

“Good. What comes after three?”

“Four,” answers Johnny.

“What comes after six?”

“Seven.”

“Very good,” says the teacher. “Your dad did a good job. Now, what comes after 10?”

“A jack!”

Contact Smiley

Write Smiley at Smiley@theadvocate.com. He can also be reached by fax at (225) 388-0351 or mail at P.O. Box 588, Baton Rouge, LA 70821.