Thursday, October 16, 2014

options are good

Had I learned that early in my daughter raising career I would have realized that she needed some boundaries and I was not capable of teaching her that skillset. For most of my life I had none, following my mother's footsteps and those of her father turning into a hot mess over something trivial. Little did I know that 20 odd years later I'd be reaching back to the days of Bev Ball and her ministry to me on Methodist's therapy dime. She counseled me to recognize a player when you see one and to get rid of the weight that I had used as a shield against getting close to men. If you're the fat girl you have to rely on personality. When I graduated from UTMemphis in 77 I weighed the same amount that I did when BG was delivered which was way too much for a young woman to carry around. I shed it once I started working and taking call for weeks on end. We got overtime back in those days and all believed that we would live forever...shooting tequila in some physical therapist's apartment. I had two male bosses when I first started and they were as different as night and day. Mickey gave us all socks on Christmas and Sammy just gave us a hard time. Nothing was never enough.

These were the times when we boiled test tubes in water baths and read the color changes on a photometer in the middle of the night. There were doctors bitching and people dyin' and all sorts of drama but I was 25 then. Now? Not so much less than sixty. Blood banking was done all in tubes and on slides back then and I did my BB rotation at John Gaston in Memphis which is currently branded as "The Med." The lab (especially pathology) is notoriously in the basement where the porcelain tables await victims the dead all laid out for a post-mortem. I remember watching my first autopsy after which I never ate liver again. Ever.

I hear little feet tromping around burning off energy on this glorious fall afternoon which means that Big E moves in mysterious ways. I'd like to be your Pollyanna du jour but I just saw a formation of four very powerful helicopters take flight across Pecan Lane and stood in awe at the sight. BG has gone all conspiracy theory on me so that's just a lovely way to spend ladies night if you know what I mean. I'd rather be dancing on the stage at Bev's or with Tommy Chong. How about we just all forget about the entire dangerous situation in three spots over in Africa and quit trying to save the world. Every time something like this happens it reminds me of Halliburton and their evil ways. Pillaging the earth's carbon has never been a wise choice...ask any truck owner. Before sunset, I heard a big awful racket of military helicopter action over at the D'burg airport and they went west in formation. That, in addition to hundreds of happy golfers over on number ? hole behind my house is what I live for. Well, that and emergency calls from the grands. It is what it is.

Times change and terms expire. Keep the faith always ^j^

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