Me, me, me

Do you have acquaintances who seem to love talking to you, but rarely ask you anything about yourself? People who might be entertaining and fun to be around at first, but after awhile the "me, me, me" focus of their conversation starts wearing a little thin? (What are you, chopped liver?) Maybe you find yourself avoiding these friends more and more. Well, guess who that person has been lately in my small group of friends? Me.

It's been me! I've been so wound up about work that I haven't been able to see around my blinders, except for looking straight down at the sand for beach glass. I've run into the PAC* three times out there in the past week and have barely asked them how they were or what they were up to. And last night when I ran into them, getta loada the fine gift Peter bestowed upon me for my coffee table: the very tip of a broken surfboard that had just washed up.
*Peter, Anne, Carmen