Look At It My Way

Life On The Back Page - December 2022

Daryl Gay | November 29, 2022

That I have an overactive imagination plus an abhorrence to being forced to sit still among fellow humans are not up for debate. My mind literally whirls; and my feet want to, even when they can’t.

Amazing that I can perch in a TomCat literally for hours in perfect contentment; but surrounded in a doctor’s office?

My brother, Dean, understands. But then, he has no choice since it’s his visit, not mine. Trouble is, he’s getting measured and consulted and who knows what else for upcoming cataract surgery, so I’m doing the driving. (Ain’t you glad???)

In the serenity of the woods, I’m always attempting to tune out irrelevant noises in the distance: trucks, barking dogs, neighbor being berated by his shrill wife a quarter-mile down the road… Here, it’s one-upmanship: “My pinky tumor is worse than your leaky lumbar will ever be and my wife’s makeup allergy has caused freckles to start popping up…”

So let’s check out the framed wall trappings. OK, it seems that several of these folks have degrees in a variety of stuff that starts with an “O.” (I did my sums and letters in second grade, but those letters never added up to these sums.)

“Them’s Greek words,” I confidently relate to Dean. “Means they gonna have you throwing that magnifying glass plumb away.”

I get the same look he’s been giving me since he was 2, and the reply, “What it means is that you can’t pronounce them words and nobody else in here can read them or we wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

 Which is about when the little nurse comes to take him out for what he later says involved about 19 varieties of high-powered light show. Great; now I’m on my own within the herd of allegedly suffering masses. At least the TV is on…

Hmmmm… featuring a cute little blonde… doing YOGA!

Anybody got a straight razor I can  borrow?

Wait; what’s she doing? More importantly, how’s she doing it? I gotta hear this…

“Now let’s go from the Plank pose to the Seated Half-Spinal Twist pose…”

Oh yeah, I could do that. And have exactly a half-spine remaining. Unable ever to twist again. And the pose would be permanent.

So here she transitions into the Cobra pose—and she’s got the body to twist into it, bro. It ain’t exactly hard on the eyes—and I’m likely the only one in the room who can actually see it—but the rest of me is warning that at least partial paralysis awaits should I go to Planking.

Is there a remote control in here? Y’all got the Outdoor Channel? Where’s ol’ Jim Shockey when you really need him? Probably right where I want to be… And I’ll lay gold coin that he never heard of a Four Limb Staff pose. Lucky him.

As you dear readers are aware, I’ve gotten myself into some pretty ticklish poses over the years, dragging deer and hogs and bears and such. And I have the jittery joints to prove it. But if I show up at the office tomorrow and began demonstrating the Bridge pose, ol’ Burch is gonna come wheeling in with a forklift and a pair of straps to restore my uprightness.

Just before he pings my noggin with a ball-peen in an attempt to restore some sanity. Such a caring guy to work for…

Meanwhile, back in the waiting room…

I’m waylaid by an elderly female upon whom I have never laid eyes, busy telling me that her son—who doesn’t have the same last name as she, casting my one-track mind right into the ditch—is running for public office in my county two years from now when some other goober I’ve never heard of retires unless he changes his mind and would I please vote for said son when the time comes if, indeed, it does?

I couldn’t possibly remember one tenth of that conversation even  after breaking away and ambling down the hall to the nearest restroom! And you want my vote two years out? Got bad orbs, or simply waiting-room politicking for the next 24 months?

Oh well, at least yoga is finally over, with no apparent injuries. Now we’re whipping up simple(!), delicious and, most important, HEALTHY recipes. No cooking involved. Smoothies and salads.    

Like Jalapeno Cilantro Hummus and Veggies.

What? Yeah, I get jalapeno and veggies; cilantro and hummus? You’re on your own. The finished product appeared to be Elmer’s glue with peppers and turnip roots anchored on top. And the cutie that put it together is tougher than she looks, because she actually managed to keep a smile on her face after ingesting a big spoonful. Just before bolting off-stage, I’m thinking.

On the other hand, maybe that’s how yoga girl acquired all those curves. If JCH&V was my only option, I’d slim down, too. From starvation. Or if I DID give in, I’d promptly blow out any remaining fat. From both ends.

Look at it from my point of view: why do I drag deer and hogs and bears in the first place? None of which, by the way, have ever been force-fed hummus. It’s probably a good thing that I don’t know everything they do consume, but it all comes out just fine in the end. On the grill. With no cilantro…

Sheesh, at last here comes my bedazzled brother being led back in. His first words: “You hungry?”

Man, that was some buffet we beat up on! And, after the entire ordeal, the best part? Now he can read this…

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