Fluffiness

When Bill and I got back from our walk today, Mom was sitting in the Red Menace staring out the big picture window in the dining room.

“What are you looking at?” I asked, heading into the kitchen.

“The sky,” she replied serenely.

“It sure is nice and clear and blue after all the rain and thunderstorms last night,” I commented, as I poured her a cup of coffee.

“I know,” she said. “Have you noticed the clouds?”

I walked out of the kitchen, into the dining room and stood next to her. “They’re really pretty,” I said.

“I know,” she replied with a nod. “They almost look like real clouds.”

I paused a moment before I asked. “As opposed to fake clouds?”

“No, just that they’re really full of stuff today. You know, fluffiness.”

“I guess so,” I shrugged. “They do look pretty fluffy. Almost three-dimensional.”

“No, not that, just full of stuff,” she countered as she engaged the joystick and turned toward the living room. “But good stuff, not bad stuff.”

“Okey dokey then,” I exclaimed, following her into the living room and placing her coffee mug on the end table. “I guess it’s always better to be full of good stuff instead of bad stuff.”

“That’s right,” she responded as she plopped down on the loveseat and grabbed the TV guide. “If it was bad stuff it would be raining, but it’s good stuff so it’s just fluffiness.”

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