One out of three ain't so very bad

Nearing the equinox, I'm mindful on this gray day that until the new year, I must interrupt my weekly coffee-house schedule.  Family priorities and cafe holiday closings mean I'll see only those companions who regularly join me on Monday mornings.  Those who share their wit and wisdom each Thursday and Friday shall remain distant until next January 7.

This enforced silence seems at this moment an eon.  Perhaps at my advanced age I feel a need for weekly assurance that their absence will not be made permanent by an accident of traffic or health.  More likely, I seek this weekly milepost to measure the distance of my own life journey.

Bon voyage, all.  I hope we meet again in good health and cheer that first week into Two-thousand-sixteen, Common Era.

What'd he say?

  Friend Jimmy delicately wiped whipped cream from his walrus-stache.  
  "I had this wierd dream last night," he declared.  "I wasn't supposed to use any words that began with a 'W'!" 
  "Like 'weird'? asked Jody, across the cafe table.  
  "Or 'word'?" added Keith, next chair over.
  "Wow!" I exclaimed. "What prompted that dream?"
  Jody pressed:  "When did you wake up?"
  "And why?" asked Keith.  "It sounded wonderful!"
  Jimmy took another sip of his latte, leaving another white ribbon across his mustache.
  "Wipe off your mustache," Jody said. "Who started this conversation, anyway?"
  "And where is it going?"
  "And when will it end?" I asked.
  Mornings at the Cafe Brosseau are like that.