Phenergan’s Wake
Filed under: Deep South, faith, family, food, health, humor
I’ve had an ill-behaving stomach, as of late. Which has kept me up at nights, uneasy and nauseous. I couldn’t eat much of anything yesterday; I had to practically force myself to eat the leftover cheese sticks, a bowl of soup, and half a chocolate bar (with hazelnuts). So, I did. But, I couldn’t bear to go another night with fitful sleep; so last night, to combat this, I took a Phenergan. It’s a pill prescribed for upset stomachs, etc. We fear I might have IBS. (That’s quite a conversation-starter, there, is it not?) It took a couple of hours, but it did the...
I don’t have to use a walker to pump my gas.
Filed under: Deep South, Everyday, faith, humor, life
I have realized, lately, that I am, at best, a third cousin once removed from my own definition of self-awareness. I like to think I'm savvy and a smooth operator, most of the time, but I had a bit of a bitter pill to swallow yesterday, when, on my way back from Scooba (perish the thought!), I had to stop and get gas. This is hardly a new thing for me, but unlike my usual stop-and-gos at the Scooba Junction gas station, I had neglected to look at my gas gauge until I was in Brooksville, about twenty minutes north. I had no choice but to pull...
A word about Free Enterprise and blood pressure monitors.
I found myself, yesterday, in the middle of Walgreens. I was comparing the prices of blood pressure monitors, and not for U.L. or a grandmother. I was purchasing one for myself. It seems I stay in a constant state of Stage 1 Hypertension, according to my third doctor's appointment in the last month. This, almost more than anything else, means I am now a bona fide Adult. Nothing says Welcome to Life like high blood pressure. I brag a lot about how healthy I am, but the truth is I’m only doing that as a means of psyching myself out. I know all too...
Not tonight, dear, I have a checkbook.
Filed under: Deep South, Everyday, education, humor, life
I will not turn around for anything or anyone, once I’m on the road heading to my destination of choice (be that New Mexico or Kroger), unless the circumstances are so dire that I have no choice: I need gas, I left my two-year-old nephew sleeping on the couch, you know things like that. For instance, last Thursday when I drove up to Taste of China, because I prefer their cream cheese wontons over China Garden’s, I was determined to get out of the car and walk in the door and eat like a king. Except I had left my wallet at...
Rasputin and the Fateful Finger Day
I: Confession I don't have many great qualities, I'd imagine (for instance, I find it increasingly difficult to even get a date, so I'm tempted to say that I must be lacking some crucial quality - unfortunately, it's a temptation I never give into. I know better). What I do have, and consider a good thing to have, is a large, uncontrollably malleable heart. Even if it's quite a fault of mine to have it, a liability. It's still not the worst thing to have. Then, again, I'm also ignorant about a great many things, and most often, after the initial shock of owning so much pathos, I tend to...
You can go home again…it's just frustrating.
Thomas Wolfe wrote, "You can't go home again." (At least, I think he did). But you know what: you can. I do it every Sunday. Mainly because I don't want to miss Nana's cooking; it's in a class of its own...and I love going home, I do, but you want to know a secret: It's also quite often very aggravating. Why is that? Why is going home such a frustrating experience? Sometimes, I think, it's because as soon as I open that front door and step inside, I'll see that nothing has changed, and I'll feel like I haven't changed either. And I hate that feeling. Despite...
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