My buddy Steve is the CFO at the Inn at Little Washington. The Inn is a tiny, spectacular hotel with a consistently amazing restaurant located in the hill country of Virginia. It also happens to be the location of my first romantic getaway with my now-ex-husband, back when we were young, bright-eyed and naive (but no less lusty!). This was years before I met Steve, of course, who was a cherished co-worker with an acerbic wit at Four Seasons It's only fitting that he has relocated his particular brand of sarcasm to the starting point of one of my greatest misadventures (believe me, I cherish them all, adventures & misadventures alike). Steve reminds us how much we miss him by sending us silly emails, and today's was just too good to pass up:
THE BOTTLE OF WINE
For all of us who are married, were married, wish you were married,
or wish you weren't married, this is something to smile about the next time you see a bottle of wine:
Sally was driving home from one of her business trips in Northern Arizona when she saw an elderly Navajo woman walking on the side of the road.
As the trip was a long and quiet one, she stopped the car and asked the Navajo woman if she would like a ride.
With a silent nod of thanks, the woman got into the car.
Resuming the journey, Sally tried in vain to make a bit of small talk with the Navajo woman. The old woman just sat silently, looking intently at everything she saw, studying every detail, until she noticed a brown bag on the seat next to Sally.
'What's in the bag?' asked the old woman.
Sally looked down at the brown bag and said, 'It's a bottle of wine. I got it for my husband.'
The Navajo woman was silent for another moment or two. Then speaking with the quiet wisdom of an elder, she said:
'Good trade . . . . . '
Thank you folks, I'm here all week.