Is She Dead? Or Did Somebody Cut Off Her Hands?

I am neither dead nor dismembered.

“Dismembered” is one of those words that sounds like it means something else, but it really only means that you’ve lost a limb or two, or four. That would have been a handy piece of information to have when, while working at Montgomery Ward in high school, sales associates like myself were instructed to peddle a Customer Service Protection (given the acronym CSP, which only made the 17-year-old associates giggle because it sounded like See Us Pee), and the CSP would be a convenient thing to have in place if you died or were dismembered, as we were told to say. As I would explain the CSP (snicker) plan to shoppers using their Montgomery Ward card in the infant and lingerie section (it was a small store), they often responded, “What is dismemberment?” I made up a whole host of answers that you don’t want to know–answers that probably gave those shoppers more to worry about than whether they would lose a hand in a tractor accident and not be able to pay their Montgomery Ward bill.

Anyway, since my last post (May 24), the days have alternated between complicated and mind-numbingly boring. And that is as you would expect as school comes to a close, a child graduates, schedules adjust, and your father has a heart attack that he still denies was a heart attack despite the stent, hospital stay and confirmation from a fairly educated cardiologist. But this apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, so I will not argue with him that his heart-attack-schmart-attack may have just been the effects of a bad sandwich. Only he and God know the real story. And in the midst of these more serious things, I am juggling work concerns that are, at once, keeping me up late at night and making me want to sleep in with the covers over my head.

So, that’s why the long and unplanned break in blogging. I’ve been preoccupied.

Welcome back. As a consolation and a thank you, I have some fun things in store in the coming days.

Oh, and my dad is doing A-OK. That’s because all my friends were on their knees for eight days, praying for him until he was strong enough to argue with the medical staff. A real win/win.

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