Grandma Henke

Wherewith I shall be flying to Seattle in the morning I hereby and hitherto bequeath the following … in case of my unexpected demise, or more likely my expected emotional disturbance and permanent craziness due to turbulence anxiety and built up fatulence … er, make that flatulence:

1.   To my dear husband, Lynn, I bequeath my little furry friends, Fresca and FiFi and bestow upon him the lifelong duty of clipping their claws and scratching behind their ears, and cleaning up their bodily deposits.  In return they will love you and keep you company while you watch television, sleep, or any time you sit down.

2.   To my grandchildren, I have hidden candy … but then of course you all know where it is hidden … and you have my permission to divide it equally.

3.   To my daughters and daughters in law I leave bins and bins and bins of material and yarn.  There is enough for five of you to be over stocked.

4.   To my sister I leave my favorite black purse that holds everything.  It sits well on the shoulder.   Of course, I shall have it with me so you may have to look for it.   You may keep the anti-acids and gas pills you will find tucked inside the zipper at the back.

5.   To my sons and sons in law I leave my yard, which needs to be made beautiful so I shall have a peaceful place to rock in my chair and watch the birdies and butterflies.

6.   To the rest of you I bequeath my book, such as it is.   One of you please finish editing it and distribute copies to the rest.

Ah, I have had a grand life, I have.

In case of survival, I herewith take back all of my bequeaths except the one to my sons and sons in law, which shall stand as such.