snores, wrinkles, and joints

This afternoon, I'd stopped by my flpl and had a nice natter. Then I settled myself into an armchair upholstered appropriately with a heavy canvas printed with books scattered and falling thru the ether. Niiiiice.

Whilst there, my lil'st friend hurtled her silly self into my waiting arms and snuggled down with me for a few minutes {that's our routine, it makes both of us more pleasant, restores the smiles to our voices}. Then she popped up and fingered my soft wide thick pink'n'cream scarf. She covered herself with it, and then announced to my chest that I was to be her pillow. I agreed, and added that she would be my blanket. Then we slumbered in heavy deadened slackness, to the delight of the folks behind us using the computers.

She perked her head up and scolded me, "mizz debRAHHHHHH, you snore!" I agreed, explaining that all old people snore. She shook her head rather adamantly, assuring me that I have no wrinkles. Except there {she pointed a lil finger at my forehead}, oh and there {pointing at my neck}, and right there {pointing at my wrist}. Before she could continue pointing out my non-existing excepted wrinkles {also to the delight of the folks behind us using the computers}, I told her that I have wrinkles on my wrist cuz I bend it {demonstrating by nodding my hand at her}. She gaped at her wrist, exclaiming, "hey look! I have wrinkles too!"

"Yep," I said, "you do; cuz you gotta joint." {by now the folks behind us were convulsing in snickers, chortles, and hoots; no longer using the computers} "A joint," she gasped in awe, staring at her wrist in wonder. "I have a joint," she somberly said.

I gave her a moment or two to soak that in. Then she urged, "where else, mizz debRAHHHH, where else?" So, I showed her joints in her fingers {wriggling my own} and in her wrist {flapping my hand around}, AND in her elbow. By then she was getting the idea, and chorused with me, "shoulders! and my other arm! and my head! AND my legs and oooooooooooohhhh my TOES!!!" All the while wriggling about in my lap and positively crowing with delight, which is probably frowned on in most public libraries, but not my flpl. Oh, no, not mine.

My lil'st friend and I animatedly awed each other with other bodily announcements, including drums, deep in yer ears!! By now, the folks behind us weren't even trying to contain themselves, and my lil'st friend leaned close to me, very seriously staring into my eyes, warning me, sotto voce, "those people are laughing at you, mizzzzz debRAHHH." I solemnly nodded my head, then whispered back,

"They're not laughing AT me; they're laughing WITH me."