Monday, July 27, 2015
Today I am grateful for clusters of friends. I’m going to be doing a little series on the different clusters of friends I have made. . .some in the last three years. Who says an old dog can’t learn new tricks. . .or make new friends? Probably no one, oh wait, I just did, but I have to be the only one because you are never, ever too old to make new friends.
There are a bunch of women I met when I retired and started going to the morning water aerobics classes at the Harleysville YMCA. It’s hard to carry on a conversation when you are splashing and jumping around like ten-year-olds, but these women like to talk so they soon invited me to join them for “coffee” after class. I put “coffee” in quotes because the sludge that comes out of that machine doesn’t deserve the title without quotes. Now we do tea. I am third on the tea bag. That should tell you something.
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The after-water-aerobics-class, bad “coffee”, three-on-a-tea-bag crowd is not always the same. Sometimes it is a huge crowd, sometimes only a few people, but I swear I never leave there without having at least one good ‘ole, from the bottom of your guts belly laugh! Why? Who knows? Over what? Not much. It doesn’t take much. We are like a tag team of stupid talk. Nonsense rules the day.
One day I announced, “I read this article where sniffing rosemary relaxes you.” They waited. . .(I love a compliant audience). . .”But what if rosemary doesn’t want to be sniffed? You could get in a lot of trouble!” Braghhhhhhhh!
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And then they were off in a heated discussion about what restaurant was on what road next to whatever down by the old mill on the back of that old highway next to the whatchacallit, you know the barn that sort of fell over but then there was a fire but it didn’t burn down all the way so they made a restaurant out of it but not that restaurant because that restaurant is down the street further and that guy, you know the one, the guy with the limp, well he used to own it but now he doesn’t because he sold it to that woman with the frizzy hair and she made great pies but she couldn’t keep good help in there so she had to sell it too and I have no idea who owns it now!
“Rosemary!” I interject. “Rosemary owns it and when you sniff her you get relaxed.” Braghhhhh! You get the picture.
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