Sitting in rehearsal Thursday night...

I sat next to an older woman, and she and I pretty much amused ourselves the whole time. The group consisted of about 40 or so people, and it was a very chaotic practice session. She and I quipped and twittered sotto voce until the chorus director finally called for a break about 3/4 of the way through the ordeal. I wandered off to the loo and came back and sat beside her and she said "what is your name?" I told her my name, and she gasped, grinned and nodded as if she knew something about me that I didn't know my ownself. She proceeded to tell me that for 21 years of military service, when she went out to kick up her heels and whoop it up, if someone asked her name, she'd say "My name is Rita" and generally operated on the premise that someone with such a naughty name should be forgiven pretty much anything. The previous time I've heard a story like this was when a fabulous woman told me her shopping persona (with very expensive taste) was named Rita.

I like these stories. I'm sticking to them. Or they are sticking to me.