A couple from church invited us over for dinner last night, and they were a delight. Not only did they enthusiastically cook a delish tofu dish, but they had traveled to cool places, had interesting books on their bookshelves, and regaled us with stories of winter camping. Oh so cold.
Anyway, at one point the gal was talking about NYU, and why she decided not to go there after all, even though she had started classes. Among other reasons, she said they have people who own student loan companies on their board, which means they raise and raise tuition so they can put more money in their pockets.
"And," she said ominously, "the owner of Penthouse is on their board."
"Oh," said my sweet husband, "you mean so-and-so." As if they were buddies. As if he's known him since grade school.
Apparently, Sam says this person is someone everyone's heard of--a household name, of sorts. It's not like Sam has a subscription--trust me.
But in that moment, before we knew it was a name most people know, sitting on overstuffed couches with our bellies full of tofu and jazz on the ipod and a Book of Mormon on their bookshelf, you could have heard the sigh of a flea.
Oh, it was quiet.
I was dying to say something to smooth that one out. But how do you smooth that one out?
So I laughed. I laughed very hard. And luckily, so did the new friends.