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Two hours ago I decided I probably have what it takes to be a columnist. This epiphany came while I read Craig Wilson's (USA Today) column writing secrets. He looks at everyday life; talks to kids on airplanes, reads obits, monitors family dysfunctionality, and is enthused when car wash attendants say their day is "blessed." He also notices love.
I worked with a man tonight--he's 53--and he is in LOVERLUST. I've watched him disintegrate before my eyes into a puppy, a love muffin, a payola dude, and other morphings which occur when a person is IN love. He answers questions I don't ask: "It was all we could do not to roll around on the floor of her office last night! She is very gymnastic in her lovemaking. ?? She has my key and shows up unannounced to roll around in the sack. It's our first sex in about a decade." Arugula!
For someone who can't bring herself to make a critical phone call, I've suddenly exhibited a brevity for column writing that is amazing. It has superseded this important phone call on my To Do list.
I signed up for 10,000 Steps at work. The hospital sponsors it and participants promise to walk "to their health" daily. Walking only 2,000, or maybe 8,000 steps doesn't disqualify you, it just means you are "building." I am waiting to walk because I don't have the free "technologically advanced" pedometer yet. I'm a purist; the program isn't official until I have that item strapped around my abdomen. If it will fit there.
Did you ever notice that when commercials about weight loss programs contain hokey humor, they always target the butt? Now why is that? Twenty years ago I went to a Weight Watchers meeting (in Texas). I was 12.5 pounds overweight at the time. I had just been scorned at the gas station because I said "pop" instead of "soda." Then, I go to a WW meeting and the leader stood in front of us with four cubes of butter. Then she placed her hands full of butter on her thighs, towards her rear end area. Begin the visual..."this is what your butt looks like on fried butter."
I'll never forget that. Regarding the 10,000 steps, we calculated that it takes 500 steps round trip to make a delivery from the pharmacy to ER. Five trips and I would be one-fourth done. In the case of heavy rain, I have a treadmill which is designed for tall long distance runners. I'm around five one-and-a-half inches. I neither run nor do anything physical long distance. Well, I have mountain biked and that's exciting. But being on top of something that moves solely with my power is different than being alone inside my body, which rarely moves as it should.
I should make that phone call to the genetics lab tomorrow. I'm afraid of the answers I won't get and the results of those non-answers. I'm jealous of women who live in high-tech states where computer chips are planted in the left nipple of bad fathers. Across the state or states from the father, the woman can log online and via the chip access his bank account for full payment of monies due her child. Or, shockingly disturb him by sending electrical shock signals until he paid up.
In two days I drive "home" to challenge a WR 122 course I took in 1985. Yes. 1985. If I pass the intensive writing exam I will earn two credits and save nearly $300 on tuition. And my transcript from this college will no longer have an "IP," but an A? B? Let's hope it's one of those two. I've been waiting to drive over until I get my act together. It's snowing on the mountain pass and this could mean that once I get there I will have to stay. What a great idea.
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