My dear piecrust-crimpin' friend had said she'd call later this week, and it's later this week, so I assumed it was she who called, and I gave her a ring. Actually, I was bustin' all over to tell her about my adventures with the bammy this morning anyway. He and I had sailed well through the appointment with the doc, then when he'd stumbled just the teensiest bit while walking down the corridor to leave, I quipped that if he was going to fall, this was the place to do it. Ever have someone hang too heavily on your words?
I'd worn a full, gored skirt today and had learned heading into the medical building that my skirt aspired to become a head scarf on this breezy day. So I wadded and clutched it tightly in my fists as we exited the building and was walking ahead of the bammy when I heard the telltale "Ooooh" followed by something like "kaloomph" and turned to see our bammy lying on the grassy ground edging the parking lot. Ew boy, do I pick him up, and am I going to be able to see when I let go of my skirt, and it becomes a head-dressing? As I was making the more moral and selfless (yet perhaps more humiliating) decision, and released one side of my skirt to extend a hand, people appeared out of nowhere to help me scoop our bammy off the ground. I reckon that small crowd served as a wind block, and I remained appropriately clothed. God is good.
A survey of bammy body parts and a trial effort at walking proved we needn't turn around and reenter the medical building. And before we'd made it to the van, I decided we should stop by the plant to see Charles and introduce our bammy to his son's work environment. Yes, he'd been there before, but every experience is new to him minute-by-minute, and I thought he'd enjoy seeing the place (again). Besides, I just felt like I could use a little *there-there* from the big guy after the parking lot trauma, and I was looking a little bit cute today; my sweater and the floaty (over my heady) skirt were a matched set and the eyeliner had flowed on perfectly this morning.
Home safe and having cycled through the caller beats me! log, I rang up the dear pie-crimper and got her answering machine.
"It's just me calling to see if you've been calling me this morning. If not..." and that's when A MAN answered the phone! Yes, she's married, and yes, I know that, but I wasn't expecting him to be home today. Caught totally off guard, I said, "Oh no! Who are you?" I know who I are -- I are the ditzy friend several states away who's about to get fired for being rude to the pie-crimper's husband. Yes indeed, my mother taught me, "Hello, this is Miss Manners. May I speak with ___, please?" I'd made it home with my cute skirt, but I think I left my peabrain on the asphalt in front of the medical building. He soon passed me off to "this crazy redhead here." Honest to Pete, I think that's what he called her, and I could hear the enamored smile on his face as he referenced his lovely wife. Maybe he'll overlook my foible and allow his beloved, crazy redhead to retain her bottled-brunette, bozo friend.
Then said Jesus unto them again, Verily, verily, I say unto you, I am the door of the sheep. All that ever came before me are thieves and robbers: but the sheep did not hear them. I am the door: by me if any man enter in, he shall be saved, and shall go in and out, and find pasture. ~John 10:7-9
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