Interesting Conversations

When everyone has made up his mind, there’s no room left for interesting conversation.

                                    –April Elliot Kent

 Not wishing to appear so negative as to curdle the cream in your morning coffee, but…

Doesn’t it get boring fast when all people do is spout their beliefs, whatever they may be?

Who likes a know-it-all? Puts me to sleep and, you know what?.  I think the know-it-all has put themselves to sleep as well. It’s like talking to a hot air balloon without the lovely view.

Mr. Al and I have a friend who is so much fun to talk to. He’s a walking question mark.   A walking intelligent question mark who loves to chew on pithy ideas. Sure, he’s got his opinions, but he loves to discover new ones.

None of us are know-it-alls. How can we possibly be when there’s so much to know? And new things to know just on the horizon?

 When I was a teen (see That 70s Show and you’ve got my teen years) LOL wasn’t even an expression. Texting wasn’t even a word, neither was laptop or cell phone or fax. If you took a selfe, you had to wait a week before it was developed, and then there was a chance your head would be cut off.

 I remember my mom took a trip to Italy. She was one of those people who insisted that every single negative was developed.

 Insisted.

Every.

              Single.

                            Negative.

Even the ones that were blurry or only half a negative.

She’d get her pictures from the photography store, pay the nice people, get back into her car, and match each photograph to the negatives. Didn’t even wait to get home.  Did the matching right there on the dashboard of her car. If she found a single negative that wasn’t  developed, she’d march right back into the store and insist it was.

Anyway, Italy.

Mom had several envelopes of pictures developed from her trip. Per usual, she got back into her car and matched photo with negative.

It took her awhile…

And, sure enough, there was one picture that hadn’t been developed. 

My indignant mom marched right back into the store, did her insist (kind of chewed them out, in fact, because they KNEW, THEY KNEW she’d wanted ALL the pictures, even those deemed unworthy of development.)  

A week later the un-developed photograph was ready.

My mom got the phone call  from the store to come pick it up.

She went to pick it up (did I mention it was in the next town over?) paid the nice person, didn’t even go back to the car to see what had been developed, just opened the orange Kodak envelope right then and there…

 

 How my mother loved telling that story!   (She never again insisted quite as vehemently for every picture to be developed.)

 Which reminds me.  Look what Mr. Al and I found in our very own town!  An old fashioned meat shoppe!!

Have a great week, Peeps!!  I’m in the midst of baking cookies and fudge. Can a woman in her late fifties get pimples from eating butter cookie dough and fudge?

Why yes, yes she can.