Déjà Vu All Over Again

All roads lead to Floyd Fest, nicely paved roads.

So how did I manage to pick the road less travelled? Because it's my usual misadventure, that's why. The directions said to take a particular road for 4.3 miles, then proceed to the right for another 3.1 miles. At this point the route turned into a gravel road. It was like a washboard in lots of places. We thought the car was going to bounce into a million pieces. Towards the end, we noticed cars to the left moving along at a normal speed and realized we were parallel to the Blue Ridge Parkway. Duh! That would've been so much easier.

Wait a minute! Haven't we been here before?

Nine years ago, I went with the same friend to the Skyline Drive to meet her parents who were vacationing in a lodge. She had printed directions from a map program pre-MapQuest. We followed the directions carefully and the main road turned into a smaller road, then around a steep curve, finally to a dirt road through the national forest. At the end was not an entrance to the Skyline Drive but instead a metal gate. We could see the nicely paved parkway on the other side but couldn't get to it--so close but yet so far away. We had to backtrack 10 miles to find a gas station where we could ask directions to the huge stone entrance (we are women so are not afraid to ask directions). From there, it was a long, slow 25 miles to the lodge where we were headed. When we left we passed that entrance only two miles from the lodge. We learned that it was the employee's gate, which required a key. The shortest distance is obviously not always best.

The funny thing is that Miss E, her mom and I were in the car together both times. Miss E was just a year old on the journey down that first dirt road. Now she is 10 and was excited to be in the middle of Miss Margie's misadventure. The giggles from the back seat made it all worthwhile.

Better Left Unsaid

Haha I've been thinking about odd things doctors have said to me and wondering why I have bothered to store them in my memory bank. Here is my collection.

It must have been 30 years ago that I went to my doctor when I was undernourished (those were the days!), and the doctor said he didn't know about my husband, but he liked his women with a little more meat on their bones. Say what? Did I need to know that?

Another doctor told me, when I came in with a cold, that I looked like the god of wrath. This was after he got off his couch in the office to see me. He was old and ready to retire. I think he must have been talking about himself!

An optometrist told me I had beautiful corneas. Was that purely from a medical standpoint? Or was he entranced by the depths of my dark brown eyes? Now that's a thought!

Recently, when I saw my family doctor to get a second opinion about the wound on my ankle, she flippantly told me that the surgeon had made the hole and he should fix it. Okaaay.

The foot surgeon told me that God must have blessed me with good looks and intelligence because my feet were terrible. I told him that I would paint my toenails so they would at least look pretty. I liked his compliment, but I bet he says that to all his patients. Sigh!

Then there are the things that I have said or have come close to saying. I think it runs in the family.

My mom was in the hospital one time and the family, including Dad, went to breakfast. Dad asked the waitress if the L on her name tag stood for Love. We fussed at him: Dad, you can't say things like that. But he did and it was fine, because he had reached that certain age when it's okay to embarrass yourself and your family. He was ordering at a restaurant another time when Mom asked him what he was having. He said he didn't know about her, but he was having a good time! Way to go, Dad, I'll have one of those!

I think I consciously crossed that threshold when I was in the hospital.

After surgery and a close call that required the emergency response team, I asked the nurse if she had called the nice looking technician "pumpkin." And I was thinking that I could say that because I was of a certain age and they would just think I was a crazy old woman. She denied it, rightly so, because I had made it up. I then proceeded to call him Pumpkin two more times. He totally ignored me; maybe he was busy trying to save my life, but that was so much fun.

At physical therapy an older woman was very emotional one day and shed a few tears. The therapist comforted her, and she patted his cheek to let him know that he was a nice young man. I haven't reached that stage yet but thought at the time that it would be a nice thing to do. Something to look forward to. Some day.

Again at the doctor's office, I was going to comment that the big boot for my ankle made me feel like Paul Bunyan looking for Babe the Blue Ox, but before the words came out of my mouth I looked at my doctor standing there in his baby blue scrubs and thought, oh oh, that comment may be closer to the truth than I am ready to admit.

There is something about me and doctors that brings out the craziest thoughts. But some things are better left unsaid--at least for now!


A Postscript: You never know what you're gonna get...

I was waiting at the hospital for a five-minute eye procedure, in the chair and ready for laser treatment. Waiting and waiting and waiting some more. It seems the medical staff had told the doctor he was finished for the day and he had left the building. There were visible gasps when they realized they had forgotten his last patient. The doctor returned from across town and was very apologetic and did the easy procedure. He told me he would bring me bring me a present. At my follow-up appointment, he presented me with a Big Box of Chocolates!

It was truly a Forrest Gump moment!

A Friend for All Seasons

What is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies. Aristotle

Recently I went to a retirement party for a good friend. She spent most of her career working in the same department. I was working there when she came--I was pregnant with my first son. We worked together for many years until I took another job. But Linda stayed. She was the heart. She was the laughter. She was the nurturer. She was the continuity. She was the glue. She cared about the department, because it was filled with people. Co-workers, professors, staff, and students came and went. She cared about each and every one. She gave a caring glance, lent an ear to listen to problems, offered solutions, and became a part of their lives. Others can take up the job, but they can never take her place. She will be missed.

She was my friend away from the office, too. She has been by me through good times and bad, laughter and tears. She held my hand through a wedding, surgeries, and wasn’t afraid to set me straight when I got a little too crazy. And through her, I have made many other good friends, including her daughter who is just as loving and caring as her mom. As women, we need our girlfriends. Girl, you are one of the best.

Go and enjoy life, Linda. Do something fun. I know it will involve expanding your circle of friends and sharing your God-given talent to love deeply.

A Funny Thing Happened

A Funny Thing Happened at the movie on Friday night...the screen went blank. We had a derecho. <http://www.howjsay.com/index.php?word=Derecho>

Everyone will have plenty of stories to tell about that for years to come. Where were you when the lights went out?

We all have stories we love to tell but that our family may be tired of hearing. This is my space to retell some events and to embarrass myself in perpetuity. 

A Funny Thing Happened on the way to the shoe store. We were in Bristol at Christmas, visiting the in-laws. Yancey was 14, and I was taking him shoe shopping. We went down the street half a block to drop off my step-son (both boys were in the back seat). He got out of the car, and Yancey and I proceeded to the shoe store about five miles away. It was dark and I was talking to Yancey, thinking he was being pretty quiet. I pulled up the store and DUH! Yancey was not with me. He had gotten out of the car at precisely the same time as my step-son. I had left him standing in the street when he hopped out to get into the front seat. I sheepishly drove back and entered the house, full of my in-laws! I would not admit that I had driven all the way to the store before I noticed I had forgotten my son. My mother-in-law had even called the store, like I would walk in and say I am here to shop with my son but, uh, had forgotten him! It has taken years to live that one down.

I also forgot to pick Yancey up after school one day when he was 16. I left him waiting outside the school for two hours, in the days before cell phones. Maybe I was unconsciously preparing him to survive life in New York City. What a kid--he never complained. If it’s not one thing, it’s his mother!

A Funny Thing Happened at the funeral home. I went to a visitation for a co-worker’s family member, walked into the parlor and signed the guest book, then looked to the front of the room where the family was gathered, and did not recognize any one! Oops, wrong family. What do you do in this situation? It would have been bad to scratch my name out, so I stand as the mystery woman. Was I a long-lost daughter, a lover no one knew about, or just a crazy lady who went to funerals to meet new people?

A Funny Thing Happened at the parking garage when my van got stuck. Have you seen those yellow padded bars that hang from the ceiling and have a maximum height posted on them? They are there for a reason, but some people seem not to notice, namely me. And I got stuck--van would not budge. Had to call Manly Man. He let some air out of the tires and had me stand on the front bumper while he got me unstuck. (I hunkered down in the front seat while he drove me out of there!) Thank goodness that vehicle is off the road, but its roof is now decorated with two strips of duct tape.

Can we all say Ditzy?? Silver is the new blond, and some days I’m the leader of the pack.

A Funny Thing Happened ... to be continued.