It Strikes Me Funny: Let it never be said...

Margie, my neighbour two doors down, recently called out to me.

“I have something for your workshop.”

We met in the middle of the yard that separates our houses and she showed me a lovely old porcelain pot with a handle.

“I don’t think I need this anymore,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. "I thought of you, and your shop.”

Reader Alert: Margie isn’t under the impression I need a pot because my shop doesn’t have indoor plumbing. She knows I display many old items on the walls and shelves, almost like an antique shop.


["A potful of 'custom' trim": photo GH]

I heartily thanked her and took the pot.

Usually it sits in the floor under a chair reserved for visitors, as a joke.

And, from now on, never let it be said that Gord is so poor he doesn’t have a pot to pi-- in.

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