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Yes, it's possible to be too nice

Yesterday at the winery, I made the mistake of telling a woman how cute her granddaughter was, how adorably precocious, what a great kid.  The youngster was a delight.  She and I enjoyed talking about Hanna Montana and singing B-I-N-G-O.  The grandmother was understandably proud, but once the topic of the youngster was exhausted, she launched into her own diatribe.  Now I'll admit she was a very nice lady.  But the moment I opened the door to conversation, she burst through it like a levy break, her life story gushing forth, a torrent unleashed.  She relived a tragic injury of years ago, elaborated on the gory details of a long and painful recovery, told me how her children coped, enunciated specifics about each and every family member, how often she visits them and for exactly how long, the divorce, she's a writer(isn't everybody?), loves where she lives, doesn't need much money but has all she needs to visit her children and grandchildren whenever she wants, yada yada yada yada yada...... 
'I'm not lonely," she said (oh really?), somewhere in the middle, after which she went on to describe a hermit-like existence in the rainforest, describing every board foot of her odd, little hovel, how it was all so perfect, yada yada yada yada and more yada.  Finally, she left. I walked to the back room.  I must have looked like I'd just been hit with a stun gun on full power, eyes bugging, nostrils flared, tongue hanging out. (OK that's a teensy exaggeration.)  My co-workers gawked.
"My ears hurt.  I think they're bleeding," I said.  That drew some hearty chuckles.

Today, Ron relinquished various bodily fluids in the interest of advancing medical science at a local medical lab.  Then, we high tailed it to I-Hop for some grub.  I had a short stack of some alternative, high fiber, low fat healthy pancakes, with nuts, whole grains, seeds, twigs and other crunchy debris.  Sure, I was skeptical, but they were very good.    Of course, these colon blow flap jacks were served with butter and whipped cream. You can put butter and whipped cream on a 2x4 and it will taste delicious.  Actually, the menu calls it, "whipped topping," whatever that is.  I mostly skipped that, opting for the maple-flavored syrup.  I doubt I-Hop serves the real deal, straight from the tree spigots in Vermont.  Still, it all made for a mighty tasty combination.  Oh, and the coffee was great.

Today is Friday, a weekday, but you'd never have known that with the traffic and crowds we battled in town.  Sheer madness, I tell you. Like Christmas during the Clinton Administration.  Bumper to bumper, wall to wall.  Good thing we fortified our systems with carbs and caffeine.  Now, I'm zonked.  Tomorrow's another day at the wine factory.  Another day, another dollar.  Actually, it's another day, another $56, before taxes, not including tips.  Hardly worth the aching legs and sore feet.  I'm filling in for a co-worker who's going with two other associates to the Kona Chocolate Festival.  What's wrong with this picture? I'm too nice, I tell ya. It's a curse I've born my whole life.

A hui hou.  Aloha!
 

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