As I age, I tend to select the story of something that mattered to me. That story created a splash and I tell it. I don't remember who I have told what. So, people get the old-guy experience of seeing him enjoy an anecdote while recalling the last three times he has told the same story, usually with the same emphases, the same pauses and the same evident glee in the same places in the story. I am interested in this phenomenon so I asked Lynn to tell me something that I have told her too many times. She quickly cited the exciting story of the single green pea. I did a search of my blog and couldn't find that story so let me tell you about it.
I was about five years old. We were eating dinner and I accidentally let a pea fall off my fork as I tried to convey several of them to my mouth. That pea rolled toward my mother's plate. The motion caught her eye. She reached down, picked up the errant green vegetable and ate it! Isn't that hilarious?
(Now just forget it so I can tell you all about it again, later.)
