Words

There is some research, done somewhere, which states that on average, women say 7000 words a day, whereas men (those succinct creatures) utter just over a mere 2000 per day.

Does this surprise anyone? Not me. I live with two men. If my husband and my son think they can make their ideas known by monosyllabic means, then that's it. They adhere to Shakespeare's quote, "Brevity is the soul of wit."

Yea, whatever.

Every couple of weeks, I get together with my "coffee ladies". It's a loosely-woven group of friends who gather for, well, basically chit-chat. Half of the ladies don't even drink coffee, so I don't know who thought up THAT activity for our get-togethers. This group began about ten years before I came on the Manhattan scene, and friends come and move on and some even return after living halfway across the globe...we've seen nursery school and middle school and high school come and go; now we all have college kids and empty nests to talk about. And talk, we do! I love my coffee ladies.

Back in the years when all five of us lived under one roof (i.e., before the daughters went to college), we enjoyed most dinners at the dining room table. It was something I felt strongly about (except in the summer months May-August, when it's a free-for-all for your dining needs in the Armstrong household...). During the school year, we five could sit and have a chance to tell or hear about each other's day.

After the daughters went to college, I tried to reinstate the school year routine of dinner at the table. Just the three of us: that Spouse o' Mine, the boy, and me. Looking back, I can laugh. It could well have been a sitcom script. The guys had little-to-nothing to share about their day. Work was "fine". School was "OK". If I ventured to make a conversation, to describe some tidbit from my day, I was often met with dull stares or strained looks of two people who wanted to eat and run.

Wait a minute! What happened to our Walton evenings? Out the window, even as the daughters flew from the proverbial nest. What's funny is that when the daughters come home, often with boyfriends in tow, we can once more have a delightful dining experience with all the family: witty repartee and intelligent debate.

The fact is, I (the female) cannot carry the conversation by myself (without sounding like a blithering idiot.) The males cannot carry the conversation with their thoughts and facial expressions. Needless to say, the dining table evenings came to an end about two weeks after both daughters left for college. Now that the boy is heading off to college as well, it will be interesting to see how many of his 2000 words that Spouse o' Mine will save for the dining experience.

Tomorrow I have a luncheon date with the daughters. I can guarantee you and myself that there will be no lapse in our conversation! I am atwitter with anticipation!