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Christmas Present

I can't believe how gentle things seem now that it's just us girls and the critters.  It's the first time we've had it, really.  Always before there were men around tossing their dirty drawers on the floor  knowing we would wash 'em.  And by damn, we did.

The tree was a bargain at Lowe's and even though the middle section of lights is out, it's still pretty and holds the ornaments we like best.  That's what this time in our lives is about.  Sharing the past and moving on to something a bit less stressful.  Ain't that right bitch?  The grands are toddling around enjoying their golden years and I so love that we're experiencing that together. 

Do you have angels like me?  Somehow I think you do, knowing what a spiritual gal you are.  It's hard to explain how it is to feel one to somebody who's never known what it's like to believe.  You are doing that in your career path, and I admire you for the strength you've shown in reaching toward your goal.  There will be plenty of opportunities to change the world one life at a time.  You already have.

When you were three months old we dressed your little butt up in holiday jammies and carted you out to Memaw and G'Daddy's in that little carry thingy.  Toni was there, and the brothers.  I still remember how you smiled at everybody because of the joy you felt just being there with us and feeling safe.   

Christmas Past

There was a time when I didn't know which way was up what with the divorce and all the drama that followed.  We split up when Lauren was a senior in high school..a couple of months before she graduated. I had fallen in love with a farmer's son who lived north of town and something just told me to get out while the gettin' was good.  Some of his last words to me were " But I finally love you!"  It took twenty years for that to happen and I was over it by about ten.   LP took it well because she knew what was up a long time prior to the deed.  We had done it before when she was only ten.

She started out at the community college and did well until she started the nursing program.  The math got her and then she started floundering for something to believe in.  After three months working as a ward secretary at the hospital, she knew flat out that being a nurse was NOT her thing.  John was her high school boyfriend, the only one who had ever treated her better than a potential piece of ass.  We all lived together off and on for several years and had plenty of drama during that time   The scaredest I ever remember being was the night I got the phone call from Thomas and Tina's kid.

I answered the phone to a strange voice, and he tried to tell me that LP was not okay...had lost it.  She had been into her Dad's pill stash for the past month and was pretty much in her own little world.  Daddy went and got her, and stuck with her through the night.  She lost her car and the whole month of December that year.  Me and John had noticed what was going on and so did her best friend.  Heather was going to school in Kentucky so we did an "intervention" of sorts and shipped LP off to Murray State for a few days.   Heather drove down to get her, and we kissed her scowling faced self goodbye before they headed north. 

The snow started a few days before Christmas and was stuck in place by icy temperatures and overcast skies.  LP was headed home for Christmas in a little bit better shape than when she left, but still confused.  Heather left Murray and stopped by the mall in Paducah before heading home in the snow.  Thirty minutes into the drive, she realized she was lost!  Everywhere she looked the landmarks were covered in thick heavy show and her passenger was snoozing.  What started out as an arrival time of 5PM turned into hours later.

I was off the holiday that year, working Christmas Eve instead.  Sittin' on the floor in front of the tree, I finished up the presents giving them finishing touches and some wrapping.  Heather had called earlier, so I knew they'd be late.  The previous week had been a record breaking prayer vigil on my part, asking God to take care of my girl and bring her home safely.  And so, I didn't really worry. 

The headlights of Alan's sportscar followed Heather's down Samaria Bend slowly.  All went well until they turned onto Pecan Lane.  Heather made it fine but Alan ended up in the ditch.  After picking him up, they proceeded up the lane under a canopy of snow draped pecan trees.  My babygirl was home for Christmas.  She slept through the big day and was not herself for a few months afterwards.  I was still scared I'd lost her.

Eva, TN

I don't remember much except for cuddlin' under a blanket with a guy who needed to talk , church camp 101 style.  Dude came from a lengthy lineage of UMC ministers and wished above all else to not be one.  As it were, he folowed his roots right smack into the fray where it all ends up at altar call.  I was a delegate to annual conference the year that he lost it right there in front of God and everybody.  After that, I tended to be less interested in the church proper and more in tune with people day by day.

His name is Steven Edward, if I'm not mistaken but I most certainly could be. 

Time will tell.

If ever there were two more different female products of the South, it was me and her.  Raised up straight and narrow in the Church of Christ with a deacon for a Daddy she was a bit umm..nearsighted, if you know what i mean.  We had similar family backgrounds with the farms and all but when religion entered the picture. Then it was her scared to death and me just wondering what it was all about.  Never saw her smile much 'cuz she was too busy working and watching for God to strike her dead in her size 8 tracks for not being perfect. 

We were both married, young..and concentrating on learning our trade.  Who would have ever thought that 30 years later we'd be in the same freakin' place with different faces telling us what to do.  And how quickly.  We have similar workstyles consisting of doing things precisely and treating people well.  The rest is not imporotant because in the end, it's sheep and goats time and we're definitely sheep.  You can tithe on that one, sista.   

The former boss was one of those guys who let all the women take care of shit for him and enjoyed every minute of it.  His wife was a homemaker with two girls on her skirttails.  Kevin never got home much before suppertime because he was too busy visiting everybody at the hospital and smokin' while the girls busted their butts boiling test tubes and calibrating stuff to make him look good.  When the bidding war started between two for-profit groups for US, he sent me to a meeting instead of going himself.  All coak and dagger like.  The fight began shortly thereafter, with the country commissioners being offered big bucks from the two players.  In the end, the facility was sold at 10M over net worth to the highest bidder.  The majority of the folks in town favored the other group but money is money and there ' go.  Sold!  The next few years were a blur of adapting to big city ways on very little money out in the boonies.  Ya'll should've seen the t-shirts and sloagans flying to get us to buy into the team.  And of course, we did. 

Still using pen and paper, we slowly got integrated into the keyboard world of modern medicine.  The test tubes got trashed as automated testing became the norm.  She got a divorce and my husband helped her move.  He was that kinda' guy, you know?  The turning point came when Kevn got called on the carpet and somebody had to be in charge of the whole deal.  About five minutes of thinkin' about being at his beck and call for any length of time gave the chills.  I mean..gah.  I had a kid and all and I wasn't yet to the point of wanting to be the sacrificial lamb at work.  Don't like pain...nope.

Lynn took over the reins and did a great job after a few teary shaky starts at leadership.  She was scared, and rightfully so.  People in management are always prone to being easily deleted when crunch time comes.  But I tell ya'll what...they'd be flat out sorry if she left the place we call home now.  Girlfriend can run the numbers and tell you what it's all about in a heartbeat.  When her Daddy got hit by a log truck out by the house on Highway 51S,I thought she'd never get over it.   Since her new husband was a cop, he knew what was up and called us to get her ready.  He picked her up on the sidewalk and hauled ass to Gates while we rounded up Xanax from the first doc we saw.  Me and the Little General went to the drug store and raced south too.  We found Lynn up at the top of the hill in a daze.  The highway was still in the process of cleanup from the log spill.  Late January, mid afternoon.  Foggy and wet.  Funny how one minute we were sittin' around taking a break and the next second..BOOM.  Somebody's life is changed forever.  Lynn picked up his bloody flannel shirt and slept with it for months. 

She loosened up after that, slowly but surely.  We'd talk about God sometimes, how he's good and stuff.  My ex had grown up with that same set of beliefs..that if  you ain't perfect don't you dare set foot in a church building.  I g'otta tell ya that was so foreign to me!  I learned about John 3:16 in vacation bible school and held onto that loving feeling forever after.  Beats the hell out of droughts and plagues.  Our old Cuban pathologist was on the way out.  He had replaced the FIRST old Cuban pathologist.  There were lots of interims but he needed somebody reliable so here came Sonia.  I immediately liked her, saw her at church and at work.  Her husband was a radiologist and we were in the same sunday school class.  They came all the way over here to flat ass West TN from Egypt to work. 

Sonia made an impression on the girls of MHS-DG-DV.  We weren't used to having the power to make our own decisions at work.  Most of them were made by men, usually doctors.  Here she was a real doctor and on our side!  She and Holeil were the parents of two young boys, Said and Nabhan.  One night when she was traveling home from WalMart with Said after buying school supplies.  They were laughing and talkin' about the new school year.  Sonia looked down to grab something out of the floor and the Avalon swerved hard right. She gripped the wheel to get the car back on the highway and saw a tree coming into the windshield. 

Said gripped his cellphone as he crawled through twisted black metal to safe ground.  He knew his dad's number by heart, but it was always there on speed dial.  "Daddy!" he whispered.  "What is it son?"  "It's bad...mom is all bloody and the car is upside down on her head." "Where?"  Said told him it was about almost home to the right.  There's a big tree, he said.  "It's dark and I'm scared."  Cops were everywhere and flashing lights.  Sonia was already in heaven, if you know what I mean.  Her funeral was the most surreal beautiful ceremony I've ever been a witness to.  My bald headed diabetic Methodist preacher waved smoke over her body right next her personal Shaman and never missed a move.  Amazing grace, is all I can figure. There's a playground with crepe myrtles over on the northwest side of the church in honor of her life.  I smile every dang time I see it. 

Our hospital had a chaplain back then.  Our first one was a retired military guy who knew about as much about chatting as my old uptight Uncle Wilmer.  He lasted about a year as the presence of "the church" in our business and went onto another appointment.  That's what Methodists do.  No ifs ands or buts.  You get the call....cut and run.  That's when Joe came around.

I first noticed him moving in about eight thousand books into a tiny  little office down the hall from the lab.  Cute...about 38 and already grey at the temples.  He lived in a hotel for several months until his wife and kids could manage to pack up the house in Arkansas and come on over the bridge.  James was six and Bec only four at the time.  Joe's parents lived way down in Texas and Martha's family was about middleways in Arkansas.  They were on the road constantly what with church and family pilgramages.  M taught kindergarten in the most amazing way...urging kids to use their imagination and artistic sides to make themselves happy.  Jay played football and soccer and Bec danced her little heart out on the altar.

I first noticed Eddie right after Sonia died.  Evidently he was the salesman for the group, moving in for the business opportunity.  His wife stayed at home and raised Lori.  Every chance he got, there he went with his guns'n'ammo ready to shoot birds, trained dogs waiting to retrieve.   After I really got to know him, the suit just didn't seem to fit his image, ya know?    To this day I've never seen him in a pair of jeans, I swear. 

Rvrguy

Talk about some perfect timing...this fella was dead on in my quest for good friends in the great big old world of Yahoo! mens.  He was a musician by trade..smartass by choice.  Years ago, he was one of the jingleaires at the Turner Ad Agency in Memphis.  Musical whore, he called himself.  When we met in a chatroom, I was wet behind the ears on the divorce thing and he was a veteran of the whole war.  As the story went, he had split with his wife about seven years earlier over a woman that had turned his head counter clockwise.  Following the divorce, he stayed with her out of guilt and what not. Not a happy camper, if you know what I mean. 

Now you must remember that I was totally hooked on chat at this point and I wore his butt out checking in about five times a day.  Like the gentleman that he is, dude was there in the window when I needed him.  Mark cooked in a crockpot while he wrote musical scores for the Air Force band, always leaving room for the drummer.  Phone work is what he hated most...doing headstands in shit, he called it.  The girlfriend moved to Nashvegas sometime during the next year and he visited a few times, but kept mostly close to homebase and the crock pot.  I invited him to dinner a couple of times but we never met in person.  All I had was a picture of his sassy self with a beret on top of a probably bald head with sound equipment in the background.

He called one Saturday night to tell me a story about love at first sight.  While browsing threads on the new Mac thingy he'd bought, he bumped into a lady in California whose son had just bought one.  They started chattin' and one thing led to another with trips from the west coast to the midsouth and back again.  I believe Jerrie was her name, and she had grandchildren who adored him as much as they did their granny.  The wedding was coming up soon!  I cried, like the sucker that I am for a real life love story.  Asked him to stay in touch after the move to California.  Sucker never did.

Happy Anniversary Rvrguy ^j^

Barry

It was an addiction of sorts, for me anyway.  As a recently divorced gal it was easier to type out some silly flirty smartass remarks rather than drive to a local bar and look at the same old faces looking for the same old things.  Escape from the real life...a mighty precious commodity.  My real life had gone both north AND south about six months earlier when I divorced baby' daddy for the second time in six years.  Spring of her senior year, if I remember correctly.  Something inside of me said to get the hell 'outta Dodge when the gettin' was somewhat within my fragile reach.  My lawyer charged me the same fee as first time around, which was paid for by Annie from her Mama's estate..just because they both love me.  I borrowed every penny I could get my hands on and gave it to him to build a life apart from me and the babygirl and all went well for awhile. 

I reckon it was the anesthesia that got me hooked on chat.  When I got home from the tubal/colonoscopy all doped up I headed to the computer to kill some time and downloaded Yahoo! messenger just out of curiosity.  Like an idgit I gave the first guy who seemed nice my phone number. To this day I believe Barry was a bot tempting me to lay it all out online.  Never did..couldn't afford a webcam back then.  Now, I could care less.  His fictional location was in LaVergne TN, south of Nashville.  Barry called while I was still loopy.  " You planning on gettin' wild there, little country girl?" referring to my tubal. Not too sure what my reply was but it must not have been very witty 'cuz he proceeded to dump me right quick as a daily chat partner and go to the Yahoo! parties up in Nashville.  Sucker probably couldn't type worth a damn.

Girls just wanna have fun :)

Me and Lynn first met up at work when we were both fresh out of school, as full of book smarts as we were lacking in common sense.  All of us girls were married...beginning the end of the road that was definitely NOT to be our destiny. We shared our days drawing blood and our nights taking call, helping each other survive when a dead body showed up with wailing relatives all around.  Sometimes you just have to keep your sanity about you when everybody's all going off and stuff.  Divorces got had and mamas and daddys died and all the while, kids kept being born.  A girl couldn't turn around without having to host a dang baby shower or tupperware party in between baking casseroles for church.   Sigh.

Actually, we did our fair share of partyin' back in the day and I look back on it with fond memories.  Some old lady is gonna get an earful when I end up as her roommate in the nursing home.  I'll tell her all about how TK bought my 13 year old self Old Charter hoping to get some...and didn't.  'Bout how the drummer used to walk from town out to my house to see me at that same age.  I will proudly announce that I've gotten schnockered with any woman that I call friend, and quite a few men.  I know who to ask for a safe ride home and I do when I need it.  Us girls from work would gather every Friday afternoon at somebody's house or another and drink 'til we were all silly or somebody's kids had to be tended to.  My Momma usually kept Lacey so I could have a night to play. 

The trouble began when the "job" came open.  You know the one...where you get to be boss and take it easy?  Our boss K was one of those guys who could get the women to do every damn bit of the work and think that he'd done 'em a favor.  Real charming fella who learned mind control from some superhero figure.  Mama's boy, if you know what I mean.  The pathologist was a rich Cuban guy who had a girlfriend that he left his wife for.  Whew..what a bunch of drama THAT was!   Pete paid K on the side to do his autopsy work and we watched several of them that he performed with a cigarette hangin' offa his lip.  He talked about peace and love and John Denver and we adored him..would fight over the chance to make him proud of us. 

The ones who slept with him actually suffered a lot more than me because I said to hell with it when the search began for somebody to do his job while he got paid for it.  Sonofabitch would have me up there mixing chemicals while my babygirl was home sick as a dog.  I despise him for that.  But 'ya know what?  It was my choice.  Even though sometimes I regret missing the complete childhood experience, there have been lessons I'd have never learned had I not worked full-time.  With the public.  In the middle of a bunch of poop and pee and gross shit. 

The job was posted, typical behavior for K.  He never could talk to a girl straight and tell her what was up.  Here was the deal, umkay?  He moves to an administrative position at the nearby hospice while the chosen one stays in the hospital to satisfy state regs, at the same pay.   Poor thang had no life, so to speak.   My strong background in statistics told me that this looked like a losing proposition, so I passed.  Thank you Jesus!

Nothing much was ever the same for a lotta years.  Mae moved away with her Southern Baptist preacher hubby to parts unknown.  Carol divorced her alcoholic man and proceeded to have a wild time herself.  Sheila got a job in finance and never looked back.  All that was left was Lynn and me of that little group.  It was a pretty rocky stretch there for a long loooooooooooong time while she learned that bein' ruler of the world isn't quite the gig it's cracked up to be.  Lynn grew up in the Church of Christ at Galls where her daddy Mr. Frog was an elder.  Her twin brother Glynn was right there with her on the pew listening to hellfire and brimstone sermons filled with lots of "thou-shalt-nots-or-else".   Signed, The Great Avenger aka God.  Her momma never worked outside the home and the garden was big and scrumptious every year because Frances made it that way while he was out working.  It's what women did when they stood by their man, so to speak.  I did the same thang, so don't call her dumb or anything.  We were just young and mighty confused.    

gene and buttercup

Originally when Geno bought the place, the bar was named after Mary Beth, called "Buttercup's" cuz that was her nickname.  Buttercup is wife number seven and probably the last because he's an ornery old fart and  nobody else will put up with his shit, if you know I mean.  Before that it was Sap's Place and eventually they took the name back because guys just won't go to a bar named after a flower. Southern boys are funny like that.  Sap's Place sits on old Highway 51 business before you cross the double bridges dripping in kudzu.  The Forked Deere river rises and falls on both sides of the highway.

Precious

Bedroom Bill got that name from a joke he used to tell over and over about the joys of oral sex. Had something to do with ears, if I recall correctly. 

Sibling Rivalry

Most of us end up as a mosaic of the people that we have shared our lives with in good, bad and indifferent ways.  I was fortunate enough to realize that early enough in life to appreciate where I came from and how I came to be who I might become.  It's a journey, ya know.

Harold is so much like our Daddy it's a joke with the rest of us.  To them, it's been very slow business finding a soft spot to land with all of their anger spewing about.  "Running Stafford Fit" is a family trademark, and I've had my share of 'em as well.  The trait comes in quite handy when someone is treated mean or unjustly.  As a matter of fact, everybody deserves a day or two to have one of those running fits for no reason at all except that it feels good to be pissed off instead of pissed on.

Me and David are much like Mama in that we stress easily and cry instead of rant about stuff over which we have no control.  To me it's easier to let it go through tears than spend years being mad about the way things went.  A certain amount of anger is healthy and justified during the cycle of grieving and movin' on.  When I get THAT mad, I cry.  Other folks say nasty things or twist somebody's ears for effect.   

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