(5) An Interlude Over Breakfast

* REMEMBER - THE STORY STARTS WITH THE EARLIER POSTS *

Over the Hills of Whittier: An Interlude Over Breakfast


I finished my last bite of grits, put down the fork, and picked up a glass of orange juice.  As I drank it I gazed out the kitchen window and across the yard.  A squirrel had just scrambled up and was hopping along the top of the wooden fence out back.   Two bluebirds flew up from fence posts to the upper branches of our pepper tree as he approached.

“I love the bluebirds,” Bambi said, following my gaze.  “You should build them a feeder.”

“They have plenty to eat up here and in the canyon.  Why do we need to feed them?”

“To get them to hang out in our backyard, of course.  And maybe we would attract some cactus wrens and mockingbirds and jays…”

“And maybe more squirrels and vultures and a condor or two,” I added.

“You don’t have to be surly about it,” she said.

 “I’m sorry.”  I felt a little bad for being negative to Bambi, especially after she’d made me eggs and grits for breakfast for the second time in three days.  But my comment was kind of funny.  “Speaking of birds,” I continued, “I had a strange experience a few days ago.” 

Bambi sat down with her toast.  “Go on,” she said.

“I read this article that said I could discover my true talents and path in life if I would have this strange conversation with a friend.  So first, I had him tell me what he thought were my strengths…”

“Who told you your strengths?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.  It was  last Thursday, when I had Wally and Jerome over to watch the Padres - Mariners game, remember?”

“Yes, I was working late at the preschool that evening.  I'm still not sure whether I approve of interleague play or not.  Why were you doing some self-help activity?  Doesn’t sound like what a bunch of guys would do during a baseball game.  You could’ve done it with me…”

“I know, it sounds funny.  There was a rain delay.  They were in Seattle..."

“Safeco Field has a retractable roof.  Why didn't they just close the retractable roof?"

"I guess that's what they were doing.  It takes a few minutes.  Anyway, there was a delay and we were sitting there, and I could tell that Jerome was about to launch into another big story about much smarter he is than his boss..."

"He needs to find something new to tell stories about."

"Right, so I had read this article at the dentist’s office a couple of weeks ago, and I was desperate, so...”

“So you had Wally tell you your strengths.”

“Yes.  He told me that I am intelligent, witty, and good-looking, and then…”

“Wally did not tell you that you are smart.”

“Well, no.  Not exactly.  He did say that I’m a smart ass.”

“Or witty.”

“It was Jerome, actually, who called me dim witted.  Isn't that the same thing?  But I did get them to admit that I am a dependable friend.”  

“Did you withhold the chips and salsa until they admitted that?  It was real lovefest you guys had going on.  What next?”

“Then I had to tell them what my passions are.”

“I hope they were all me.”

“Of course you are, but this kind of passion we were talking about is all about what I do, not about who…”

“Not about who you do it with?”  She got this really sly grin on her face about then.  I liked it.  I went on.

“Anyway, Wally and Jerome started making up stories about me, you know, including all that stuff, and I told them what I liked and didn't like about the stories.  Then we had to keep revising the story until it was just right.  The idea was that when we got it just right, the story would reveal my true path in life.” 

Bambi leaned forward, expectantly, with a curious expression that somehow managed to be shrewd at the same time.  “Do tell.  Was it to travel the world with me, sailing sunny oceans and visiting historic places?” 

I took a deep breathe and gazed out the window.  The bluebirds had flown away.  “Close,” I responded.  “Turns out my true path in life is to be Superman.”

"Superman..." Bambi mused, gazing off into the distance with me.  Suddenly she snapped out of her reverie and looked me in the eye.  She smiled that quirky grin again, then stood and pulled me to my feet.  "What," she asked, still holding my hands, "did that have to do with birds?"   

"Birds?" I asked. 

"Yes, you started that fascinating story by saying 'speaking of birds'."  She pulled me toward her. 

"I can't remember," I mumbled.  "Something to do with flying..."    

"Doesn't matter,” she interrupted.  “Today,” she said, “you can call me Lois.”

“Pleased to meet you, Lois.” 

Bambi pulled closer and put my right hand on her waist.  She held my left hand in her right, and slipped her left hand around to the middle of my back, as if we were about to dance.  “Can you read my mind?”

As it turns out, I could.

Beau