Fishnets and Forgiveness.

I woke up Monday morning with half a mind still feverishly dancing in a monochrome dream leaving a partial memory of  gray frolicking dogs, green dew kissed grass and lazy Tennessee back roads lodged in my subconscious. The determination of one schnauzer and the relentless kisses he strategically placed on my left eyebrow, eye socket and finally up my left nostril would be successful in pulling  me from the dream altogether. I went to move and my right hand,  it was nothing but a blob of swollen searing pain, unable to fully extend it, hot to the touch it felt like a red hot poker. I pulled myself out of bed, greeted by my right Achilles tendon who wages a war with violent pain and spasms daily at this point, I affectionately call it ‘ the stubborn lil bastard”. It will not heal, it will not ease no matter what I do to it because it’s a stubborn lil bastard.  My left knee is not working well these days at all but I just give it the cold should and keep moving, obviously related in some way to the stubborn lil bastard who just resides a little further down on my body. My appointment with the Rheumatologist at the end of the month can not come soon enough!

I can’t really navigate going down the stairs very well, so I sit and scoot myself down one step at a time, Maggie is behind me taking each step with me, if I stop to rest, she stops too. She is like a silent cheerleader of epic proportions, standing on my right shoulder with her two front paws looking down as if she is offering up sensible directions, “Eight steps to go, and you’re down…try not to get a splinter…no one has time for that nonsense, you’re already going to be late.”  Tully is at the bottom of the staircase staring up at me… with….wait for it….a tennis ball in his mouth. Yes, because that is JUST what I want to do when I get done sliding down the 16 wood planked stairs on my backside.  I make it down to the bottom of the stairs and Tristan is hopping around, wiggling his butt, and wagging his tail, so happy to see me. Tully is shoving the ball at me relentlessly and Maggie has now crawled over my shoulder to be free of her supervisory role guaranteeing I made it down in one piece, now prancing off in search of breakfast.

How could I possibly not want to get out of bed each morning with this sweet three ring circus keeping my on my….toes… or butt, whatever happens to be working that particular day.  My morning routine takes three times as long to execute when my hand is swollen and flared up, so I forgo searing some salmon for lunch and throw a sandwich together that looks like a kindergartners handiwork, so I remind myself not to eat it in the kitchen at work, people will think I have a drinking problem. I am forced  to bring the toys I bought for Scott’s daughters one year birthday unwrapped because my right hand can’t grasp the scissors to cut the cute princess paper I had bought for her. That brought me down a bit, somehow if it only affects me it’s one thing but to come between a one year old and her princess paper is not going to fly.

I drove to work hoping that I didn’t run into anyone in the parking lot. I just feel bad, right now I can’t even walk at a any sort of normal pace so I feel like I am just slowing everyone else down. At this point I am feel kinda sorry for myself which I swore would not be the way I approached anything in my life going forward but I had taken a big swig from the “Woe is Me” cup as I slowly walked down Elm street. Coming toward me is a woman who looks like she might be working, and by working I mean headed to a street corner somewhere. It was 9:00am and she had on the shortest skirt I have ever scene, okay I have seen one shorter but that’s another story altogether. I digress. Anyway, she had black fishnet stockings on and spiked high heels (up up high heels) and a bra (sparkly pink) with a short button down shirt but it was not buttoned only tied in a big knot above her bellybutton, which was pierced. Twice. I realize that is a lot of detail but I had my sunglasses on and she was fascinating to look at, so as I am hobbling down the street getting closer to her , my internal voice kicks in reminding me to politely LOOK AWAY FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DON’T LET HER CATCH YOU STARING AT HER! I stand up taller and hobble faster, she is about two feet in front of me when I hear, “Well good morning beautiful! How you doing today?” I spit out a bit of a stunned response “Uh, great, how are you?” she keeps walking but throws this backwards for me to chew on, “I woke up this morning and I am blessed, blessed, blessed and may you have a blessed day sugar ” I didn’t even get to tell her to have a good day cause she was already half way down the block as I stood there with my mouth open.

Here is my take away and what I told myself over and over and will continue to remind myself daily. I don’t know shit about anyone who is walking down the street, or anyplace else for that matter, so my judgment and ignorance of what I think of people and what I think I see when my lens is only concerned with assumptions, is not being a very good person, it goes against everything I want for myself when people look at  me, which is not to be judged or ridiculed or have assumptions made of my life or choices.  If I am really honest, my interaction with that woman was the best thing that happened to me that day. It stayed with me and I swore to myself that if I see her again, I am going to tell her how much her kindness meant to me that day. So, thank you to the amazing woman in the fishnet stockings that reminded me of the golden rule and made me feel like a hundred bucks when she called me beautiful. Life’s lessons are pretty good at slapping us in the face when we least expect them.




“She’s saving me I don’t really think she knows it
It’s a strange way to show it as distant as last night’s dream unravels
She’s saving me I’m a very lost soul”-ES/IG



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