We decided to go to the driving range to hit a bucket or two.  It was hot, in the mid 90's and we were the only ones there, except for the guy driving around in circles in the little cart that picks up all of the hundreds of balls.  Eve probably hasn't hit a golf ball in at least two years.  So after half the bucket was empty, I felt very secure when I offered her $100 if she hit the little cart that was now a little bit off to the right center of us.  She aimed, steadied her stance, wound up, took a swing, and the ball went sailing to the cart, took two short bounces, and then BAM! smacked right into it.  She beamed.  I smacked my forehead with the palm of my hand.  How could that happen!

The next day we went shopping with Emily.  Eve needed lipstick.  We walked over to the lipstick counter by which time I was bored and bordering on cranky.  The lipstick samples were all standing lined up in a try.  There must have been a hundred of them, all sticking up like soldiers.  I then made the mistake of saying what I was thinking.  I said, how can you possibly pick what color you want out of all of these.  There are just so many.  Then I said that if I had to pick a color, I would do it through the process of elimination.  Those very bright blood red ones for instance, I would rule those out.  I scanned another row.   And these too, I said, pointing to some dull brown ones.  Those look like cat shit, I said.   Little did I know that is what Eve had just picked out.

Eve looked up at me and said, I guess I just bought cat shit lipstick.

How improbable, yet again.

Sometimes it is better not to talk.