My mom’s birthday was on October 30th, and throughout her life she was always making allusions to being a “witch”. Her first “gift” witch was one that hung from the IV pole in her hospital room after her hysterectomy, after that, we were constantly presenting her with little witches as “thinking of you” gifts.
One of the funniest witch events though involved a broom. My dad would often snatch the closest broom at hand whenever he wanted to sweep up something in the garage. Often the closest broom at hand was the “good” broom my mom used for the kitchen. After one or two uses in the garage though, the broom would be rendered “too dirty” for sweeping in the house and would join the collection of garage brooms in the far corner of the garage.
So one day, after my dad had swiped yet another kitchen broom, my mom went to the store, bought a new broom and a thick-tipped, black sharpie marker with which she labeled the broom “Joy’s broom.”
She showed the broom to my Dad. “See. It’s labeled. Joy’s broom. Do NOT use it in the garage.”
The next day she came into the kitchen and picked up the broom to sweep.
My dad taken the sharpie and added: “Not to exceed 10,000 feet AGL* or 200 MPH.”
*AGL = Above Ground Level