Conversations Today, Thursday, 18 October 2007

Self will skip over kind message left by student from xxxx community college on her e-mail last night (But it did mean a lot to her; thank you, S!)

Self will also skip over rather testy exchange with hubby this morning, about whether or not she was entitled to some financial assistance for her huge car repair bill (Hubby thought not)

No, instead self will begin with conversation self conducted with cousin in Virginia, conversation which began shortly after self walked out of beauty salon in Foster City that kept her waiting and waiting and waiting, for no discernible reason, for half an hour, perhaps more (All she wanted was a quick trim). Self walked to her car with as much dignity as she could muster. No one in salon tried to stop her or even asked where she was going; truly, they were not much interested in her business. While stewing in her car, self decided she needed very badly to talk to someone. Naturally, the first person she thought of calling was her cousin in Virginia. In ensuing conversation, self learned that cousin was re-modeling her house yet again. In fact, self learned that cousin was at that very moment busily engaged in choosing just the right shade of yellow for her family room.

Self: You ought to go on this website, 52 Projects. You can submit your re-modeling as a project!

Cousin: What? No. You really do have this overwhelming urge to entertain the whole world with your blog, don’t you?


An hour later, self was with old college chum Gina (who looks exactly like she did in college — amazing). We met at the Mills Hospital Extended Care facility to visit a classmate who had been in a coma for nine years. Self had a sneaking suspicion it would be a bad idea, and the shock of seeing the body on the bed, immobile, mouth open, teeth splayed — was that anything like the young woman she had known all those years ago? No.

Anyhoo, after the visit self and Gina agreed that we were in urgent need of something to calm our nerves, and naturally we decided that what we really needed to do was have lunch. And during lunch self became quite lachrymose and confided to Gina that she had a dog with lumps and did not have the funds to operate. At which point, self thought of calling that font of good sense and empathy, son. And his phone went ring, ring, ring, and right after the third ring she heard his cheery voice. And this was how the conversation went:

Self: Gracie’s got more lumps.

Son: What? Where?

Self: Right near the old lumps. But we can’t operate. So you’d just better get used to the idea that you won’t have her very long. And oh by the way, I hope I didn’t catch you in the middle of class.

Son: No, you didn’t. How much would an operation cost?

Self: Almost a thousand.

Son: You can get it from my account.

Self: What? YOU don’t have any money. That’s why you worked as a security guard this summer, remember?

Son: But we have to try and save Gracie.

Self: No, no, no! Your account is more important than a dog!

Son: Let me try talking to dad tonight.

Self: (sniffling) OK.

Self hangs up and thinks: hey, son really would make a very excellent therapist.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

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