Sunday, July 5, 2009


Mrs. Bird is a Mormon--a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Some of the things we don't do is drink, smoke, or drink coffee. We don't do drugs. This story is about the "don't do drugs" part.

This incident happened when her husband was our Bishop. The Bishop watches over the whole ward. They council the members, they "run" the ward, and they take a very active role in the lives of the youth. He had been called to one of the members homes--they had a rebellious teenager and the Bishop took something to get it out of the house. That sets up the story.

Mrs. Bird got in the car to run some errands. On the passenger seat of the car was a paper bag with the top folded down several times. Mrs. Bird didn't think anything about it until someone ran a red light. She hit the brakes and the paper bag went flying onto the floor. After she gathered her wits and got in the parking lot of the grocery she picked up the bag and opened it. Inside was a recipe book. "How to make Hashish brownies," she read. Hum, she thought. I wonder if that's a health food? And I wonder whose recipe book this is? Maybe my husband wants me to start baking and he bought me this book as a surprise. She put the recipe book back when she noticed something glittery in the bottom of the bag.

She pulled out a necklace with a little pipe-looking thing on it. Hum, she thought again, this is kind of cute. So, like a true blond she put it around her neck and went into the grocery store. She went back to the meat counter to order something and the butcher looked at her like she had a wart on her face.

"What on earth do you have around your neck," he asked.

"Oh, isn't that cute. It's a little necklace of some kind." She picked it off her chest and played with it.

"Do you KNOW what it's for?"

"What do you mean, 'what it's for?'."she asked. " It's just a cute little necklace. I found it in a bag in my husband's car. There was a recipe book in there too, one of the recipes was for Hashish Brownies. I wonder if they sell Hashish here."

The butcher shook his head. He knew Mrs. Bird and he knew her husband was a bishop and he had already put two and two together and got four.

"You're wearing a 'pot pipe,' and no, Albertson's doesn't sell hashish," he said, laughing behind his hand. "Oh...ha ha ha. No Albertson's doesn't sell...ha ha ha...oh, dear," he said. "You're wearing...ha ha ha...a pot pipe."

"A pot pipe? What's a pot pipe?"

Now this happened in the early 80's. You'd think Mrs. Bird would recognize the words, "pot" or "hashish." But, no, not Mrs. Bird.

So, the very amused butcher explained to Mrs. Bird all about pot--and hashish--and making brownies and he probably explained other things to her as well. When he was finished she was mad. Mad as a wet hen. She got into the car and drove to her husband's office.

"Hi, honey," he said when he saw her.

"Don't you 'hi honey' me," she said. "What are you doing with a pot pipe," she picked it up and waggled it in his face, "and a cookbook telling how to make brownies with...with..." by now she was so upset she could hardly talk. "And I wore this into Albertson's, thinking it was cute, and the butcher had to tell me it was a...a....pot pipe!'

He started to laugh. With Mrs. Bird for a wife he spends a great deal of time laughing. He laughed so hard he could hardly breathe. He bent forward, putting his hands on his knees. "You wore it into Albertson's?" he wheezed. He wiped his eyes. The harder he laughed the madder she got.

"Honey," he said, when he could finally breather. "It doesn't belong to me. It belongs to a teenage boy in our ward. He's having some problems. I can't tell you who it is but I've had a good talk with him and with his parents and, well...." He took the necklace with the pot pipe off of her neck. "Let's just throw this away, shall we?"

Then he kissed her on the cheek and walked her to the car. He said he had some work to do.

Then she said things like, "Oh how silly of me, I should have known you wouldn't have a pot pipe. I have errands to run so I'll see you at home, later. There won't be any warm brownies waiting for you, though." She smiled and handed him the bag with the recipe book and he threw it in the garbage can at the side of the office.

She started the car and he leaned in the window and gave her a kiss. She put the car into gear and as she drove away she looked in the rear window and saw her husband, laughing his head off.

They say laughter is the best medicine. Mrs. Bird does what she can to keep her husband healthy. He should live to be a hundred.


Lorraine said...

Oh what a lovely, engaging story, it's beautiful lol and funny ...I loved everything about this story, except that you can't drink coffee, that's wrong in so many ways..;)

Laura ~Peach~ said...

i agree no coffee... ...have mercy... will tell you a short tale about my 1st step mother... she made those brownies and fed them to my was quite funny in some ways and was excruciatingly funny to a 16 yr old well not so funny... did i mention i come from dysfunction times 3 ???

zelzee said...

How funny!!

Mrs. Bird certainly makes for a lively post!

tearese said...

hah! I could see my mom doing something like that. Maybe.

Michael Rawluk said...

Maybe Mrs. Bird is the way she is because she smoked a little too much hash when she was younger. She just forgets.

hillary said...

I agree with that last guys comment. Mrs B and my ceramics teacher Mr Watson maybe used to party together?

I have a younger Mrs Bird in my ward. She just doesn't know it yet.

Pam's Place said...

Dear, dear Mrs. Bird. I wish you had told this story before Sunday. I would have given her an extra hug.

Jessica said...

Oh, Lynne, thank you for making me laugh yet again. That is just funny stuff right there!

Annette said...

Oh my, I feel like I've been watching a movie the way you described that. How about a screenplay?

Astromom said...

Lynne I was literally crying with laughter, this was one of the funniest stories I have ever heard. I can and can't believe it is real. Wow. I'm so glad I decided to look back and read some of the blogs I missed.