Dear Paramedics:
If there should come a time when I am stranded somewhere and become violently hypoglycemic like I did last night at the coffeeshop, and Heather is not a phone-call away from coming to rescue me, please be aware of my own personal quirk, which should not cause you unnecessary alarm. You know how you ask semi-conscious people questions to test their alertness? Like, what year is it? Where do you live? What’s your last name? To the question: Who’s the president? I will reply: Charlton Heston. I can’t help it. It’s funny, every single time. Even half-dead. Jenni