Conversations

Hello,

Almost every day I have such great conversations. Great advice is being given. Pertinent questions are being asked. Great jokes are told with just the right touch of humor. Interesting theories are expounded with finesse. It all seems to be coming from the same source. Oops, I realize that I am talking to myself. How did this happen? It seems to me that it has escalated in the last year or so. Have I gotten wiser or do I just need a constant stream of chatter to feel all is right with the world?

Many years ago when I had children at home I spent a lot of time talking to them, including when I shopped. After the last child was in school I would find that I was still telling the shopping cart everything that it could possibly want to know. A few raised eyebrows and some sidelong glances helped me to curtain that habit. Or maybe it helped that I was younger and could still learn new skills, such as silent shopping.

I have noticed that at work I have a tendency to talk out loud. Last night I struggled hard keeping my mouth shut. The only trouble is that I then adopted Leroy’s habit of small sighs, whimpers, moans and or groans. He, by the way, is a master at this art. I am not sure if he wants to me know that I would be aware things are not going well, hence the noises or if it is just for himself and his own mental health. Leroy is a master at the sounds while never actually saying a word. Without meaning to I have learned from him. So now my task is to be silent when at work so I do not annoy my fellow workers.

By the way the fog was even worse last night. I crawled safely home and gave a prayer of thanks for being there. Leroy tells me that he too was very aware of the fog on his way home even though he went home about three hours earlier than I did. We are thankful that he has good lights on his bike. When he bought them, I thought they were extravagant, but no more. They are now a necessity especially as he comes home after dark. It is even rather dark in the morning. Who knows with this nice weather he might ride on the shortest day of the year. He is a little concerned because much of his warmer clothing is dark and not so visible; hopefully the drivers see his lights flashing away. He also tries to travel on not such busy streets or even goes a bit early in the morning as the traffic is less.

Paula