Surgical Stories: Strong

Every mother with a daughter should read this piece by my friend, Jan Wilberg.

Jan Wilberg's avatarRed's Wrap

We used to argue about how to fold the towels.

I folded them in half. She folded them in thirds.

Sometimes I’d open the linen closet and all the towels would be refolded in thirds. They were tidier that way and the closet doors would shut without having to force them. Still, it irked me. I was the mother. I wanted control over the towels.

But it’s a flimsy thing to control how the towels are folded. And a foolish thing to make towels a metaphor for everything.

In the hospital, the morning of her heart surgery, she took a stack of towels and a clean hospital gown into the bathroom, unwrapped the antiseptic scrubs and scrubbed her own chest. She was deliberate and thorough, going lighter on the long scar from her previous three heart surgeries, but scrubbing the rest of her chest, not missing even the tiniest spot…

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My Accomplishments

Sometimes one must toot one’s own horn lest it go untooted:

1) I pulled together an incredible Thanksgiving Day meal.

2) Neither Studly Doright nor I have developed any signs of food poisoning.

3) I took the best nap of my entire life. Thanks L-Tryptophan!

4) I have single handedly consumed an entire bottle of wine today and am sober as a judge.

Now I sit with Studly watching the Dallas Cowboys play the evil Washington Redskins as I contemplate my plans for tomorrow. Should I venture out into Black Friday crowds? Only fools venture where angels fear to tread. But, I’m no angel, and there’s always more wine.

Peace, people.

 

Snapshot #60

My view from the kitchen sink here at Doright Manor. I call this one, “Happy Thanksgiving.”

Peace, people!

Snapshot #59

I can see this lovely vine from my kitchen window at Doright Manor. Let’s call this one, “A Vine Line.”

Old White Cars

My subconscious has been working overtime during many mangled hours of sleep. Since Trump secured the electoral college numbers to make him president-elect, I’ve awakened from uneasy dreams multiple times in the middle of every night with a horrible taste in my mouth and a lead ball feeling in the pit of my stomach. I’m pretty sure that along with the nightmares I’ve developed an ulcer. Note to self: Buy stock in Rolaids.


A couple of nights ago I had a dream that keeps nagging at the corners of my mind. I know it’s political, and not even very subtle. Tell me what you think:

I’ve gone into a shopping mall leaving my beautiful blue car in a parking spot at quite a distance from the building, the better to get my 10,000 steps in for the day. After walking around the mall and trying on clothes in various boutiques, I return to the parking lot only to find my car has been taken. I’m devastated. The car was my favorite. 

I flag down a security guard on his little golf cart and we make several loops around the enormous parking lot with no success. Finally we call 911. When the police officers, Bill and Jill arrive I give them a detailed description of my car:

Medium blue, 2008 model, Chevy Allegiance.

“Ma’am,” Officer Bill says, “We’ll get right on that.”

“Can we give you a ride home?” asks Officer Jill.

As I’m getting into the officers’ patrol car, two older white men suddenly appear beside me. 

“We found your car!” exclaims Man #1.

“It’s right here!” enthuses Man #2.

And sure enough, there’s a huge car covered by a white cloth just a few parking spots away. I follow the two men who are so excited about showing me my car. With a flourish, they pull the covering away to reveal a beautiful antique car. It’s a gleaming white  Duesenberg.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” crowed Man #1. “It’s the 1933 model.”

“Yes, it’s lovely, but it isn’t my car.”

“It is now,” intoned Man #2. “Enjoy the ride.”


That’s when I awakened. Isn’t it amazing what one’s mind can do? A Chevy Allegiance? No such thing. A ’33 Duesenberg? 1933 was the year Hitler became chancellor of Germany. Coincidence? 

As Trump assembles his team of alt-right racists and hard core hawks, this dream has become even more nightmarish. I just want my blue car. 

Peace, people.



Sensing My Dismay at the Election Results, My Wife’s Dog Presses Against Me

From one of the best, Robert Okaji.

robert okaji's avatarO at the Edges

keep-off

Sensing My Dismay at the Election Results, My Wife’s Dog Presses Against Me

And when I roll over, my toe finds a hole in the not
inexpensive 400 thread count percale sheet and rips

down its length, and I wonder if I should extend this
metaphor to include walls and the unbearable weight

of societal collapse, or hatred with small hands and
minds or faces like pale disks of whitewashed emptiness

glaring at my friends, or, well, my wife and I, across
the restaurant’s laminate booths or the potholed street

by the bus stop. I recall the woman’s sneer and hushed
commentary that afternoon, and though I wanted to

correct her mistaken assumption (hey, lady, I’m not
Hispanic) and redirect her bigotry to the correct ethnicity,

I chose instead to smile and wave goodbye, to drive to
the polls and cast my ballot, one drop in that dark bucket

of…

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Commonweal on Trump: A Time to Pray-Spot on

cornfedcontessa's avatarcornfedcontessa

Commonweal, the Catholic magazine, published an editorial about the election of Donald Trump. The editors are deeply concerned about Trump’s lack of empathy for those in need. They hope he wi…

Source: Commonweal on Trump: A Time to Pray

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Trump EXPLODES After SNL Humiliates Him; Alec Baldwin Has The PERFECT Response (TWEETS) – New Century Times — Adventures and Musings of an Arch Druidess — O LADO ESCURO DA LUA-Too flipping funny! You go Alec Baldwin!