Lizzy, the lord of playground insults

    Greetings from the Ridge.
    Husband Herb came home yesterday afternoon, slammed the front door and plopped into his chair with a pronounced pout. Since it was obvious he was waiting for me to ask what was bothering him I said, “Herb, what’s bothering you?”
    “Nothin’.” ...This is how our conversations often begin.
    “Your bottom lip is sticking out so far it could hold a three-inch rain. What’s the problem, sweetheart?”

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