On more than one occasion, I’ve heard my husband wisecrack to my listeners, “She sure doesn’t let the facts get in the way of a good story.” But I swear that was not the case in my last ginnygram about the dread lifeguarding tests.
Friends, my reality is rocking, and not in a good way.
I have just learned that Julie did pass her test that spring day back in 1968.
Wow.
That’s like finding out that you were separated from a twin at birth. Or that your father is really a handsome secret agent, and not a dorky computer salesman. Or that your husband isn’t actually allergic to cats. He just says he is, so you can’t keep the stray, half-frozen kitten that you named Millie, short for Millennium, because it was January 2, 2000.
So.
Will I change my last ginnygram to speak the truth? I think I’ll leave it alone for now, as if it were published in an immutable form, and hope that readers find this “errata sheet.” And by doing so, Julie’s reputation as an able lifeguard will be restored.
And will I change my evil storytelling ways? What do you think?
ginnygram 