Graham: "Who makes sure you get all the way to heaven?"
Me: "I don't know. Maybe the angels?"
Graham: "No, who really does it. You know. You always know every-fing."
Me: "When did I start knowing everything?"
Graham: "Today you know everything."
At this point I wonder if he's thinking about Poojah who died 366 days ago. (And I forgot to call yesterday on the super-important ritual anniversary day.)
Me: "Do you remember Poojah?"
Graham: "Yes. Poojah died. . . . What's Poojah's front name?"
Me: "Poojah."
Graham: "What's Poojah's back name?"
Me: "Sunderaj."
Graham: "No, her back name is Cutler. Poojah Cutler."
Me: "Maybe her back name should be Cutler, because she feels like part of our family."
Graham: "Yes. That's right. Margaret Cutler and Poojah Cutler."
