"Why did you cut my punch line, 'Revenge is a dish best served cold'?" asked Australian Patrick Whiteley, a former editor.
"Congratulations," I told the newlyweds, "on your divorce!"
A few people have written to me lately and said: "You must be a great chef!"
"Could we have another set of plates?" I asked. One of the two waiters who had been lingering near the counter chatting about vacation plans finally brought us the plate, without saying a word or offering even the hint of a smile.
My two sets of "parents" were about to meet for the first time.
At the start of this semester, I was asked by the university I work at to give the students a pre-test, a sort of mock exam to establish their English level.
Pool is a great game. It has skill, tactics and a cooler cachet than its elder brother, snooker.
The dean cheerfully informed me last week, "Wednesday is a holiday, you'll have to work Saturday instead!"
Transportation was unexpectedly smooth and I arrived at the meeting half an hour before time.
With the pleasant autumn nights upon us, my wife Ellen and I have taken to walking around the neighborhood we live in of an evening.
My mother is Jewish. Funnily enough this makes me, despite my lack of faith in anything Jewish, Jewish.
I live in what is often termed a "Chinese compound" which, unlike the "international compounds" of Beijing supposedly made to international specifications, is a simpler residence constructed to local standards - or rather the local standards of the 1970s.