Exhaustion and Dining Companions


Moving is exhausting. Writing conferences are exhausting. Vacations are exhausting. So, of course, it made sense to pack them as close together as pickles in a jar. In the last few weeks, I moved from the house I lived in for ten years, prepared and left for a writing conference in San Antonio, and decided to drop in on friends and family in Oregon–it was only a few thousand miles out of the way–before heading back to Indiana.

As you can imagine, finding time to write has been about as easy as finding a place cold enough to wear a parka in San Antonio. This trip was my first visit to the city, and I struggled to keep my body from morphing from solid to liquid form in the overwhelming heat.

I wonder how I ever survived living in Brazil.

I’ll be sharing more about my conference experiences in my newsletter (to sign up click here), but first I would like to tell you about some of my dining companions.

We were walking along the San Antonio Riverwalk when we stopped for lunch at a Tex-Mex restaurant. Our dining companions greeted us before the waitress.

Mrs. D was quite the hungry dining companion. At first, she was polite in her requests that we share our meals. Gradually, she grew more insistent as she did her best to clarify that she would really like a bit of sustenance. Her method of accomplishing this was to tug at our pants. When we ignored her, she tugged harder and still harder as she struggled to make us understand. She vocalized her needs, but we–cruel people that we are–ignored her. Her family and friends hovered nearby.

Mrs. D

Then there were the rest of the audience who were silent but gawked at us with open mouths. They each wore bright red lipstick to outline their gaping mouths, which they opened and closed to demonstrate where the food would go should we choose to share.

The Lipsticked Audience

We finally rewarded their persistence by crushing leftover chips and throwing them into the water. Lest that sound rude, I should probably clarify that the dining companions were ducks and tilapia.

Eating on the sidewalk cafĂ© may have been hot–and left me with a sunburn on only one side of my neck–but I always will remember my dining companions.

Even if they were a bit less than human.

They were finally rewarded for their patience.

Have you ever had a unique dining companion?


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