These are the flowers in my front hall and they have nothing to do with this post.

The last thing, and I do mean the very last thing I wanted to hear about on Christmas Eve, or anytime for that matter, is my mother in law's vagina. You too, right? The woman from her nursing home called me about an hour ago to discuss a medical issue with my husband, who is the stepsone of said M-I-L Since it was Christmas Eve he was out shopping, so rather than cut my tongue out as I should have, I used it to ask if perhaps I could help.

“Well, sure,” says the nurse, and accustomed to discussing things like old lady vaginas and bodily fluids she launched right in to it. “I just want to let you know she had a UTI, but she's on antibiotics now and doing much better.” She pauses for a bit and I make noises like I am pleased to hear her news, so encouraged, she continues. “Do you know what a boil is?” I allow as to how, while not being a medical professional like herself, I am familiar with boils. “Mrs. Haley has what she says is a boil on her vagina, but it doesn't look like one to me.” The nurse then proceeds to describe the thing on my step-mother-in-law's vee-jay in vivid detail and living color. I am on a run away train pulling on every handle, cord, and whistle in the cab, but it's like I'm having one of those dreams where you are screaming but making no noise.

 “...she says it's getting better but I think I see another one coming up a little closer to her...” 

“NOOOOOO, please, make it stop, ” is what I am yelling inside my head, but my mouth says, “Maybe the antibiotic caused the improvement. I'll let my husband know and thank you so much for calling.” She goes on for a bit, but finally realizing that nothing more coherent is going to come from me, she decides her job is done. 

“Now, I'll keep you up to date on everything, don't worry. You be sure and let your husband know, okay?” 

“I certainly will,” says my lying mouth, “and you have a happy holiday. Thank you so much.”

Now, I'm going to my front hall and look at my flower arrangement again and try to forget the other picture in my head. I suggest you try to do the same. 

and BTW, Merry Christmas. 

well, the stockings are hung, but...

Once again I have been drug into Christmas kicking and spitting, like a cat getting a bath. Once again, now that it is done, I want to let what is left of Christmas magic fill my soul. The tree is up, the gifts are purchased and wrapped, the house is filled with fresh flowers and greens, and the guest room sits in orderly anticipation waiting for my middle child to arrive. He however has been sitting at JFK since nine this morning on standby, his flight from Seattle delayed because of an unprecedented six inches of snow. In normal times he could have gotten on the next flight, but it is Christmas so all the seats are full. My daughter called me from her friend's house in DC to reassure me that he will get here and of course, she is right. It's only that right now having decorated the house and trimmed the tree by myself while my husband watched football, I'm not quite feeling the Christmas thing. I can promise you the boy stranded in NYC airport is muttering a bit of bah humbug under his breath too.

Eyes On The Future

Everyday I pass her cube multiple times and each time she is peering into a mirror as she talks on the phone, some implement in her hand applying makeup to her already over taxed eyes. She has perfected the art, but it is a temporal medium and requires constant vigilance.  I am her quality monitor and I listen as she reads her script, stopping at the end of lines instead of at punctuation marks. Still, after long practice she is competent on the phones and her quality scores are acceptable. She needs the job as she is a single mom with a young son to rear. 

We had a catered dinner for our holiday treat last week and I shared a table with her. In fact I was the only white girl at the table, and while no one ignores that fact, they all know me as a liberal and they slid from their phone english into the cadence and grammar that is most comfortable. I catch the middle of her conversation...

“...and his daddy ask me, what that boy doing up that time of night? That man is a fool. I told him he's watching history, history. We gonna go up there (Inaugration) cause I want him to see it. I want him to know that a black man don't have to be a basketball player or a musician. He can be president.”

The first thing that came to my mind was the Onion article that quipped, “Black Man Given Worst Job In Nation”, but I understood what she was saying. I try to imagine the colorful baby mama as the mother of a president but I can't bring it into focus. I do know that her son will grow up in a world of new possibilities, a world I dreamed about and worked for all my life. I know that my grandson will grow up in that world too and I can't help but wonder, what will they dream?

Why didn't I think of that?

Let me say at the get go that I have the greatest respect for IT people, having a degree in programming myself and two sons who make their living in the field. I know all the jokes about the stupid calls they get and have been asked some dumb questions myself a few times. I love the ones that start, “This may be a dumb question, but..”. Now the only answer to that one is to smile and lie, “Of course not, there are no dumb questions.”, but that's another story. I don't want to talk about IT from the inside today but from the actual world outside where people do things we can mostly understand. 

Being computer savvy, when I train new employees I tell them that before calling the help desk to first shut everything down and then turn it back on. It usually deflates the voice on the end of the line very effectively when you tell them you already did that, but some of them got wise to me. “But did you unplug the phone first, they ask, or did you hit the delete key three times while holding down on F17 and reciting the alphabet backwards?” I admit I didn't try that and they tell me that should fix it but if it doesn't to call back. Then they hang up before I get their name and extension. In a big company there is a good chance you will never speak to that particular techie again. This is such a shrewd move that they have earned my grudging respect, however this week one outdid himself. 

It seems that one of our major applications, the one we use to monitor calls as in, “this call may be recorded for quality assurance”, had a slight glitch. Half of the screen, the video portion, was recording upside down. It was not happening on every call, which for a computer is an even stranger problem.  One of my favorite managers found it first and after he quit laughing he called the help desk. They didn't believe him so they asked for a screen shot. He sent a copy to me too just for laughs but since it is protected by HIPAA I cannot include it in this post. The help desk emailed him back about an hour later with instructions on how to safely turn his monitor upside down. Brilliant.

More than you ever wanted to know about fishing and beyond..

I had been curious about the Bass Pro Shop since my body pump instructor said, “Hey dude, you gotta go see this place I went to this weekend.” It was an unlikely recommendation with no detail, but the next sentence was, “You might want to take off a little weight for this one.” Not having listened to that bit of good advice to my determent the next day, I thought maybe he might be right about his other suggestion.

A cold drizzling rain was falling when we arrived at the overflowing parking lot. A smiling barker stood by the turnstile at the entrance and encouraged us to “use both sides”.  Immediately after I pushed my hip against the medal rod a woman who seemed to be auditioning to be my personal hostess, intoned an enthusiastic, “Thank you for coming!” She would have shook my hand, but nodding slightly, I marched past her like I knew exactly where I was headed. My husband followed because after long years of living with me, he has found that he may need to keep me from walking straight forward off the edge of a cliff while trying to look in control. 

It took all of my inner cool not to stop and gawk like the swarming throngs around us. Tall trees appear to support the soaring structure, their leaves lost in the dark places high above. Vignettes of  glassy eyed taxidermic wildlife peer vacantly from every pseudo rock and tree.  A waterfall cascades into a deep pool conveniently equipped with one glass side so visitors can see the stock of large game fish doomed to swim forever in circles. A mannequin with an enormous butt stands frozen beside a salmon stream forever looking for a likely place to cast. Real salmon sit at the other end of the pool and snicker at her pants.

We climb the steps that lead behind the waterfall and discover a stuffed grizzly bear so surprising and life like two children had to be carried screaming out of the narrow stairwell. Upstairs and down there are shooting galleries for adults and children. The camping store is complete with an entire row of deep fat turkey friers. Downstairs, right behind the display of enormous fishing boats, sporty Santa sits tirelessly in his rustic chair picking up little children that just finished making glitter pine cones at the elves table. I wonder how many beards he goes through in an average week. 

I've seen all I care to see when my husband asks if I want to go look at the fishing lures with him. I give him my standard “were you talking to me” look and tell him I just might check out the menu at the restaurant. I stroll down past the fudge shop and looking through the door I spot the 12,000 gallon salt water fish tank reaching to the ceiling.  It comes to me that I may have found a way to salvage this day. My husband found me an hour later sitting at the bar eating lightly seared sesame tuna with wasabi and drinking Yuengling. He laughed as he sat down beside me,“Some sporting goods store, huh?” 

"Yup, it's like a theme park with guns and booze." I order him a beer and do not complain when he tells me all the names of all the fish as they swim past.

Notes on Sex Found in a Fortune Cookie

A housemate I had back in the day was taking a test for nursing school and had to answer a question on the four necessities of life. She put food, water, air, and sex, but not in that order. I ask you, what’s wrong with her answer? If we put the restrictions on food that we do on sex most people would starve to death.