Poor Stanley

So, a funny thing happened at work today. I had this sweet patient – let’s call him Stanley – who I’ve known for nearly a decade. He’s been going through a rough patch lately. His elderly father just passed away, he’s been experiencing a lot of neck pain, and they finally confirmed that his thyroid is officially “dead” - which explains his debilitating fatigue. As he starts to catch me up on all the details, I invite him to lie down and relax. So, now he’s lying down, with his eyes closed, as he’s proceeds to tell me everything that’s going on in his life.

As I’m listening to every detail, I notice the tiniest, tiniest, little, black spider playing Tarzan in his blond hair. I don’t like spiders of any size, so I’m still listening to him, but I’m keeping my eye on the baby spider. I watch him jump from strand to strand as I try to decide what to do. Normally, I would come right out and tell a person this kind of thing. I certainly never hesitate to let someone know their zipper’s wide open, or lipstick’s on their teeth, or spinach is in their teeth, or my personal favorite – their shirt is inside out or on backwards. ( That usually happens to the mothers who have a million things to do in a day) I tell them these things, because I would want them to tell me!

But I didn’t want to tell him. So I lightly blew on his forehead, as if I was trying to blow out candles on a cake, hoping the spider would just blow away. I wouldn’t normally consider doing this, but this man isn’t interested in girls, so I took the chance that he wouldn’t even be phased by it, and I was right. He just kept on talking. I guess I had forgotten that spiders aren't much affected by a little breeze. I’ve seen one clinging to a flower once that was being blown sideways on a windy day. Those guys definitely know how to hang on.

So, I decided to capture the strands of hair the spider was playing in between two fingers and whisk him away. Stanley noticed that. He asked, “ Oh, was there a little piece of fuzz in my hair?” I wanted to say, “No Stanley, there was a spider in your hair – yuk! gross! ” but I felt certain that would upset him. Stanley is a very neat and hygienic individual. He’s always put together, everything in his house is white, and his Beemer convertible is cream colored with light beige interior. I honestly felt like the idea that a spider was crawling in his hair would seriously bother him – it sure bothered me! So I replied, “It’s all gone now!” and left it at that.

Stanley left the office feeling better, while I was left feeling a little itchy, because I’m not real sure where that little guy went. I’m slightly paranoid that I took him home with me.

Please God, don’t let that be true!

I'm A Commandment Keeper

So, I’m doing a bunch of weeding and trimming tonight and because I’m out of refuse bags, I decide for the first time to throw them in the big green trash can. No biggie. Until I took notice of the big white label covering the inside lid that clearly reads, “DO NOT PLACE THESE ITEMS IN THIS CONTAINER: Furniture, tree limbs, appliances, building materials, automotive parts, paint, and oil.

What?! How have I never seen this until now? Eight years and hundreds of trash days, and I’ve never seen that sticker. Apparently, I’ve broken the golden rules countless times over the years. I’m amazed they don’t drive their trash truck right by my house yelling, “Rule Breaker!” as they blatantly leave my trash behind.

I’m a Commandment Keeper and I don’t consider myself a rule breaker – unless we’re talking about speeding, ‘cause I don’t follow that rule too well – but other than that, I’m a good girl. I know I haven’t thrown any appliances in the green can, but when it comes to every other item on the list, I’m guilty!

Even though I’ve never seen that sign before today, I admit that I was told once by a friend that building materials were frowned upon in the green can. He informed me of this after I had torn up all the white ceramic tile in the kitchen and had boxes of it in the garage, waiting to be disposed of. Mind you, he did not tell me NOT to do it, he just said it was frowned upon.

I remember the first morning I rolled that forbidden load to the curb. I watched from the window, as I peeked through the blinds, waiting to see what would happen. As the trash truck pulled up, I could feel my heart beating in my chest. The big plier hands reached around the can, lifted it up, dumped in it, and poof – white dusty smoke filled the air. I held my breath, waiting to see what would happen next. I was sure the driver was going to jump from his truck, run to my door and yell, “Hey Rule Breaker, Congratulations! You’ve just been X’d off my route!” But he didn’t! I’m not sure he even cared, which to me was permission to refill the green can with more taboo materials. After eight weeks of breaking the rules, my garage was finally clean. It felt good and bad all at the same time.

Of course, had I seen these rules written in bold, red letters, as I did tonight, I would have hesitated to dump the stuff in the green can. But, I‘ll admit, I probably would have done it anyway. I’m a girl living in the suburbs. When I got trash, I throw it in the trash can. What else am I supposed to do with it – decorate my lawn with it? I’m going to do better, though. I want to be a true blue Commandment Keeper!

Ahhhh Weddings.....

I attended a wedding yesterday. I love weddings! I always think about how every person in the church is experiencing the moment differently, depending on what chapter of their life they’re in.

The couple happily married fifty years may be nostalgic – remembering how much they loved each other on their wedding day - astonished that they love each other so much more today. They’re probably wearing one those goofy grins as they think of their long and happy life they’ve shared. Of course, two pews ahead, there’s bound to be another couple who’s just endured the longest fifty years of their lives together and death is sounding pretty good right now.

There’s probably a couple or two who’ve only been married a short ten years and still remember how free they were to love each other, before all the children came along. Now, all that love is multiplied, but also divided. With young children, that free love comes in stolen moments; between diaper changes, meltdowns, and temper tantrums. Of course, two pews ahead, there’s a couple who welcome the distraction of a dirty diaper, because their honeymoon ended shortly after the actual honeymoon. So sad.

Then there’s the couple who’s children are grown and living their own adult lives. These couples are entering the second honeymoon phase - rediscovering what it is they love so much about the person they married and who that person has evolved into. It’s sort of like falling in love all over again. And two pews ahead, there’s a couple who’s children have flown the coupe, and left behind two perfect strangers in the house together. These people need to do some serious dating again if they don’t want to end up like the couple married fifty years, praying for the end of their own life.

Of course, there’s always a few single people in the crowd wondering what it would be like to find that person who is different than any other person they’ve met. They can’t imagine meeting a person who makes them think, “You know, I’ve met a lot of people in my life and I’ve liked most of them. Some of them became my friends because I liked them so much. I dated some of them because not only did I like them, they made my heart do a little dance. But until now, I never thought to choose just one of them to walk hand in hand with me for the rest of my life! But you know what? No matter what comes my way, you ARE THE ONE person I want by my side at all times”.

That’s seriously heavy stuff. Watching two people stand up there and proclaim that this is the one person they’ve chosen to walk beside, no matter what, until the day they die is a serious statement. It’s inspiring to say the least. I’m actually thinking about doing it myself someday. We’ll see…..

Rubbernecking

Today, I drove up on a minor car accident scene, in which no one was injured and things were totally under control, yet other drivers were gawking as they drove by. It is my belief that rubbernecking is one of the main reasons for traffic molasses. You’re motoring along the highway, making good time, when everything comes to a screeching halt. Twenty minutes and two miles later, you finally discover what all the fuss was about and you think to yourself, “Seriously, that’s what the problem was?”

Years ago, I decided not to be one of those drivers who gawk. I would drive right past an incident and barely look - because it’s rude to stare at others misfortune, right? At first, I felt proud of myself for not being a nosy driver, but after a few “drive-bys” I noticed my pride quickly morphing into guilt.

How could I drive by without looking or caring about what was happening? I didn’t want to gawk, but certainly I should take interest in another human beings plight, right? I thought back to college days when I drove the ultra-cool Ford Escort, which we all know to be the ultimate in reliable transportation – kinda like a Honda, only ten times cheaper! How many times have I recited the rosary in that red hunk of metal, as I traveled from one college to another for the “party of the year”? If my little Escort had done the unthinkable, and left me stranded on the side of the highway, it would break my heart to know fellow drivers blew right by me in my distress, without a second thought.

So, I decided to become a semi-rubbernecker. As I come upon a distraction, I take a quick look, assess the situation, keep moving, and offer up a prayer for them. I take notice of their situation because I’m concerned about them and I keep driving out of respect for them. Of course, if he’s cute and driving a Jag, then I pull off the highway, throw it in reverse, and show him just how fast I can drive my scooter backwards and in a semi-straight line!




I don’t really own a scooter – just a car.

A True Dancing Queen

I recently watched the classic movie, “My Fair Lady” with my seven and nine year old nieces. It had been twenty years since I had seen it and all I remembered about it was Audrey Hepburn talked really funny and there was some romance in it. I had forgotten that it was over three hours long and they sang nearly every scene – fifty songs! Even though it’s rated “G”, it’s not much of a child’s movie, but the girls hung in there really well. They said they liked it, even though I doubt they’ll beg to watch it again and again like they do “Enchanted“.

I was commenting about the movie to a patient of mine who happened to be a teacher. I spoke of how terribly simplistic the story line was and how the character development was minimal. He explained that when movies of that time were made, most people did not own a television, but everybody had a radio. Music was what it was all about. They made movies in an attempt to sell records. Basically, “My Fair Lady” was just a simple story set around a bunch of music videos. According to this teacher, all musicals and most movies were made to sell records, unlike the movies of today.

But last night, my sister-in-law proved him wrong. I met her at the theatre to watch the film, Mama Mia, because my brother wasn’t interested in seeing it– shocker! The movie was great! It was a little unnatural seeing Pierce Brosnan sing, but he looked good. Through it all, we laughed and Renee’ cried. It was the kind of movie that made you realize that you wanted to have a lot more fun in your life – like when you were twenty! Two thumbs up for fun!

After going our separate ways, I drove home with all my windows down, despite the spitting rain, and beep bopped to the loud music like an inspired dancing queen. ABBA wasn’t playing on the radio, so I had to make due with what they were playing at the time – no problem!

When I arrived home, there was a message on my voicemail from Renee’ telling me that she had gone straight to Barnes and Nobles and purchased the Mama Mia soundtrack because she was just so excited! She felt inspired to buy it! In fact, it was playing in her car as she was calling me. She was going to sing along to the music all the way home, like a true dancing queen!

I don’t know. It sure sounds like somebody sold a record because of a movie to me! Mama Mia!