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Pick a Husband, Any Husband

As the hostess at the casino 
buffet showed me to my table, I asked her to keep an eye out for my 
husband, who would be joining me 
momentarily. I started to describe him: “He has gray hair, wears glasses, has a potbelly ...”

She stopped me there. “Honey,” she said, “today is senior day. They all look like that.”

Rosalie Daria, Cincinnati, Ohio