Wednesday, August 19, 2015

biding time

There is something in my craw that just won't budge and I've been told numerous times I just have to "let it go" but that's not going to happen until I have my say with the powers that be.  That very well may be the end of my road, but I feel compelled to open my mouth one more time in defense of those who trust in the practice of do-no-harm.  That little mantra includes being good stewards with life's most precious gifts like donated blood and what not.  Rant over.

My teammates in the class have totally carried me during the past month for which I am eternally grateful.  Honey Badger thrives on organization and discussion and I've been sort of busy with the grands.  I received a hand written note on natural paper from my dear friend Lisa today.  Her Pop died awhile back and I remember after the funeral visiting her at the family home with her brothers and mom, like we did in high school.  Well, actually her mom was usually cooking and Pop would hold court.

On the one hand I feel eternally blessed to have been given the opportunity to spend the majority of my life in paradise.  I can thank my parents and grandparents for that little stroke of luck.. I lived in Big City during college and hated it.  If you can believe this, I spent two years there and never used I-240.  If I'm lyin' I'm dying.  The school that I attended was in a creepy old building next to the John Gaston hospital and a lot of it was in the basement.  I know blood bank was!  At the city's trauma center, their shelves were stocked with hundreds of units and lucky students like me got the job of re-checking the types on every one of them after delivery from Interstate.  We ate hot Krispy Kremes for breakfast on the way to class and tried to maintain sanity while cramming two years worth of  knowledge into one.   And then Elvis died.

Moving day is next Friday because Bubba says so and I'm down with that because it's time.  There will be opportunity to sort and sift through that house just like we have done in the others.  Don't tell Mama, but the notes still aren't in the mail.  She would be mortified to say the least.


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