Archive for October, 2012


Twin Stranger

As far back as I remember, I recall tales about each person having a “twin” somewhere on this Earth. I’m not talking about an actual twin who you tangled with in the womb, swapped identities with “for fun,” or with whom you shared that special, biological connection. I’m not even talking about the celebrity that our over-inflated egos might have fooled us into thinking we resemble. No, I’m thinking of that random stranger that grandma used to say “looked just like Leroy” while shaking her head and humming Papa Was a Rollin’ Stone.

Most of us have been told we look just like so-and-so, only to see our lookalike, shake our heads, and question when folks last had their eyes checked. Oddly enough, I’ve been told that I bear a resemblance to Lauren Hill from the group The Refugees. Personally, I don’t see the resemblance but I’ll take it as a compliment, as long as we are referring to the pre-loony Lauren.

I don’t always believe these old wives’ tales, and would have easily dismissed this one, if I hadn’t met my own “twin” one day.


Daddy’s Love

One morning while getting my daughter ready for her trek to daycare, I noticed that she had a nasty rash with inflamed, red bumps all over her little legs. Like the mother that I am, I immediately panicked, called her doctor, and scheduled an appointment ASAP. In route to the appointment, I called my husband to convey my concerns and ask if he’d noticed anything on her legs when bathing her the night before. He stated no but paused and speculated quietly I wonder if the shampoo I used caused the rash.

(Moment of temporary confusion.)

Me: You washed her hair?

Him: No.

Me: Sooooo….why did you say you used shampoo?

Him: She was out of baby wash, so I used shampoo.

Me: What do you mean you “used shampoo”?

Him: Well, she wanted bubbles…

(Extremely loooooooong pause.)

Him: Are you still there?

Me: I’m hanging up now.


(Silent cursing in my head…ok, maybe not so silent.)

Fast forward, and less than an hour later, I’m intently watching the doctor as she examines my daughter’s legs and comments that it looks like an allergic reaction. Quietly I ask, Can this be a result of bathing in shampoo?

Doctor: (puzzled look)

Me: Yes, that’s what I’m living with.

Listen, I understand the special bond that fathers share with their daughters, but really?! This is some foolishness. We now look back on this incident and laugh. Well, he laughs; I just shake my head. His thoughts: That’s my baby, and if my baby wants bubbles, she gets bubbles.


A Lesson in Lying

I was laughing with a friend not long ago about an experience I had as an airman in the military that taught me a valuable lesson in life. From this experience, I learned that it just doesn’t pay to lie.

Back in the day, if a person wanted to take a sick day, they had to go to the clinic, be examined by a doctor, and given permission to go home. I mean, really?! This airman, soldier, sailor, or marine is old enough to die for their country but apparently not wise enough to know when he/she was actually sick. I never quite understood this, but I guess it was designed to keep the troops honest.

Anyway…folks found a way to game this system. The inside secret amongst some young military members was that a sure fire way to get sent home was to just tell the doctor that you had diarrhea. As you know, this is a very messy ailment that most doctors don’t want to dally in; so, the doc would provide a cursory look-over and quickly send the troop home with a prescription of rest and relaxation.


Of course, I’d never had a reason to use this convenient lie until one day after a night of hanging out too late. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to make it through the workday without dozing off, so I decided to cash in my “free pass.”

That morning, I proceeded to the clinic where I put on an Oscar-worthy performance. I told the doctor that I was feeling weak and had an upset stomach, and…(pause for dramatic effect)…I had diarrhea. Instead of receiving the hastily scribbled quarters note banishing me to my dorm room for a day of R&R, I was greeted with the snap of the latex gloves being placed on the doctor’s hands as he prepped to get to the bottom of my ailment.

Five minutes later, I gingerly walked back to my office to continue my workday with my doctor’s assurance that, according to his exam, the diarrhea must have subsided.

Trust me, it just doesn’t pay to lie.


High Road Detour

Where is this high road that folks are always talking about?!

Seems like every time I get poised and ready to give someone a good piece of my mind, then here comes the voice of reason telling me to take the high road. What is there to see on this so called high road? The way folks describe it, I’m thinking that it’s going to be a sugar-coated lane, paved with niceties and the smiling faces of the deaf, blind, and mute. Because apparently, on the high road, no one speaks their mind and only lukewarm cups of the truth are served.

So, forgive me if on occasion I choose to go off road and detour on the low-down, dirty track where I get to tell it like it is and call it like I see it. I can relieve my inner tension and let my tongue happily say Excuse me, your behind has clearly relocated to your shoulder region, you butthead! and be openly applauded for saying what others (on the high road) wanted to say. 

I get that there might be more potholes along this route, but honestly it sure feels more satisfying on this ride…at least for now.