marry someone rich!
the journal of Michael Werneburg
twenty-eight years and a million words
Toronto, 2003.08.20
On my way to get groceries, today, I past a family that had just emerged from a restaurant. Parked on the street was an expensive European sportscar of some sort. The grandmother pointed at that car in that grandparently way (waggling the entire hand as she spoke) and said to the teenage grand-daughter, "Marry someone rich. Marry someone rich!"
"I will," gushed the grand-daughter, as if it were a done thing.
I wound up forgetting the polenta, as usual.