Isn't that strange?
I have so much to say and I want to be engaged, but delivering long-winded (and even short-winded) stories or explanations still wears me out. While getting ready for the Saturday wedding, simple questions like "Where does this platter go?" could make me weak in the knees.
Yesterday, 26 third and fourth grade students from the alternative Sequoyah School in Pasadena came to our yard to learn about the food exchange group and to pick fruit. We gathered under the massive avocado tree while I talked and answered questions about growing and sharing for 15 minutes. My coughing became out of control and I was soon exhausted. I was relieved to let the future gardeners scatter like squirrels to pick figs, avocados and persimmons.
When my loving brother recognized this tiring-talking phenomenon, he asked George to give the toast at his wedding. This morning I woke up filled with regret that I didn't give a toast to him and his beautiful bride Bonnie. The top of his wedding cake is in our freezer, so I'll have to wait until their one-year anniversary to make that toast.
Seems like my turn at being taciturn is just fine with our three cats. With them, the less yakking and yapping the better. Puss (the cat I adopted from my friend Bob) and I have become especially close over the last few days because I slept in "her bedroom" while house guests slept in the king-sized bed. Puss made a daily ritual of grooming my head of hair. She started by licking my curls with her tongue. Then she wet her paw and stroked my hair. She finished with gentle nibbles on my scalp. I never had to say a word.
And I haven't had to wash my hair for days.
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