Today began on a different note. Gayle normally doesn’t speak in the morning until close to noon. I’m ready to talk, but she’s not even ready to listen. It’s at the point where we just grunt at each other as we shuffle around the house. But today was different.
Gayle not only talked, but she made pancakes this morning. That’s becoming almost a weekly event around here lately, ever since she discovered pancake batter as an art form.
Actually, this is the only time we eat breakfast together. She’s afraid of my omelets. The closest she gets to my creative concoctions is to stand back from the mixture and check to see if anything is moving in it. I use omelets to get rid of leftovers sitting in the refrigerator and have found that, when in doubt, hot sauce can cover indiscretions very effectively. It also kills alien life forms.
I’m currently working on two books and was on the computer even before taking a shower this morning. Gayle asked if I wanted pancakes, which sounded good to me, so the next thing I remember is sitting at the table with coffee and my eating utensils at the ready. Since I always cook my own breakfast it felt a little strange. “Feed me! Feed me!”
While we were eating I notice her staring at my head. She finally spoke and said, “Your ears are getting longer.” Huh? What? Where’d that come from? So now I picture my ears reaching my shoulders. That’s just what I needed to start my day. I liked her better when she didn’t talk.
I know that the feet, ears and nose never stop growing on older adults. Even worse…gravity pulls our height down, while pushing our stomachs out. I think these are tricks God plays on us as we age. He’s got to be laughing as He watches fat, short old people trying to keep their balance wielding a gigantic nose and stepping on their ears with their huge feet. And that’s not the only joke God plays on us as we age.
One thing that keeps Gayle and me from mutually assured destruction is the fact that we share an exceptional amount of laughter. Age provides unlimited opportunities to laugh at yourself, if you’re no longer worried about making an impression on your mate. We’re well past that, so we laugh a lot. We don’t care anymore. I figure that if she accepts me with hair growing out of my ears and my occasional yelp, as I leap to my feet when I accidently sit on “my boys,” I’m sure not going to worry about my ear lobes getting in my coffee.