Rose Quote #464
Rose: I remember when I was a little girl back in St. Olaf. There was this old lady who lived up the street. She never smiled. I mean, she always looked angry. The kids said she'd kill anyone who even stepped on her property. We called her Mean Old Lady Higgenlooper.
Blanche: Yeah, kids can be pretty cruel.
Rose: No. That was her name. Mean Old Lady Higgenlooper. She had it changed legally 'cause everybody called her that anyway.
Blanche: Then how come your name isn't Big Dummy?
Rose: Well, there were already three other people in town with that name. But that's beside the point. One day I got up the courage to go up to Mean Old Lady Higgenlooper and ask her why she always frowned. Well, she had been born with no smiling muscles. I pointed out that a frown is just a smile turned upside down. So from then on, whenever I'd go by, she'd stand on her head and wave.
Features in the collection: Tales of St. Olaf.
Rose: Well, it wasn't unnatural in St. Olaf. We not only took care of our old people, we revered them, honored them, put them on a pedestal. 'Course, that's how we got to be the broken hip capital of the Midwest.
Quote from Sophia
Barbara: Hi, Dorothy, Rose. I certainly hope tonight will help us forget what happened the other night.
Sophia: I already forgot what happened the other night. But then again I'm 82 years old. This morning I forgot my cat's been dead for 20 years. Which makes me wonder: Who's using the kitty litter?
Quote from Dorothy
Rose: Dorothy, what happened? Barbara just stormed out of here.
Dorothy: She's not coming back. You know, both of you were right about her. I can't believe that I couldn't see it. Can you ever forgive me?
Blanche: What do you think? Should we give her another chance?
Rose: We better. Best friends are hard to come by. Does this mean you'll go to the masquerade ball?
Dorothy: Yes. And I'll tell you something. After all the practice I have had lately, I'd be honored to be the horse's behind.
Quote from Rose
Blanche: Barbara, that is such a stunning brooch. Wherever did you get it?
Barbara: Oh. I was in Morocco working on a novel, not to mention a dashing young Moroccan, when I had a severe attack of writer's block. My head was devoid of all ideas and thoughts.
Rose: That happens to me a lot.
Barbara: Do you write?
Rose: No. Why do you ask?