Blah-Blah-Blahg: Food For Nought

I recently stayed at a bed and breakfast and realized that there is a funny etiquette that operates when you enter into this world of doilies and daisies. I loooooove B&Bin' it - and not just because I get to use the abbreviation as a verb. I have a strange addiction to the conversation at the communal breakfast table. A B&B is a whimsical mingling of people in close quarters, friendly innkeepers, and the serendipity of finding yourself amongst other curious travelers that have chosen this same slice of American pie. When I make may way to the breakfast table, I cross my fingers for a small number of guests so we can most effectively talk at each other. I don't care what type of cable-sweatered, weary traveler fate plops into the wooden chair across from me. The B&B beckons me to ¡EMBRACE! my fellow wanderers/wonderers - to tell them about the book I never wrote, my first crush, explain why I don't take sugar with my coffee but will add it to my tea, marvel at the local discoveries that I have or haven't yet made, realize that I REALLY like the fuddyduddies or freaks sitting within spitting distance. After an hour or two of relaxed rambling over fresh plates of fruit, I exchange emails with the honest intention of keeping in touch with these people who seemed to be so different. Now I feel irreversibly bound to my unlikely friends. If the vicissitudes of fate dropped me down on a plane seat next to this traveler, or my love of sending postcards miraculously brought me to the same post office, I would expect them to greet me by name and introduce me to a loved one. I really and truly believe that anyone I meet at a B&B will name their firstborn after me or at least beg their sons and daughters to do so.


Things I saw during my most recent travels:

The loveliest bird feeder ever
















                A happy bush

















Elephants on parade