Becky Says...

February 2003

Current Entry
Previous Entry
Next Entry

Personal Sites
and Forums/Boards

The Hunger Site

Write to me

Subscribe with Bloglines

February 23

I spent some time this weekend looking back through journal entries I've written, to gather the pertinent links to send to someone writing a book about losing one's mother. I had agreed last week to be interviewed (by e-mail) on the subject, but when I saw the questions, I realized I had already answered most of them.

And I really hate reinventing wheels. So I gathered the links (if you want the list, please ask for it; I really don't want to post them tonight), and added a few comments. It was infinitely easier to do that way.

Then I spent a few minutes this afternoon explaining something about North Carolina to some online friends...that being that in many parts of the state, about the worst thing you can do if you're female is to curse. Yes, it's sexist and archaic, but there it is. And it's usually other women who are the fastest to object.

By the way, I don't mean being a real potty mouth when I refer here to cursing. The person who brought the subject up was guilty of saying, "Get the hell away..." from something, only to find herself castigated by her North Carolina relatives. The woman in question is from out-of-state, in case you didn't guess that.

Yes, I know. I'll be damned, too.

And for the record, I learned my profane words at my mother's knee. Or some other joint. (That one is courtesy of my mother, who among other attributes had a wicked sense of humor.)

February 22

In case you think working at a law firm is boring, read on. There are the occasional very odd days.

One day this week someone was in the office, and was telling about a fall she had taken a few days earlier. Some of her injuries were obvious---it's a woman I've seen before, and her usual attire doesn't include a walking cast (she broke a bone in her foot).

Wendy was speaking with the woman in the lobby when I got to work. I slowed down on my way to my office, to chat and be sympathetic. Then Wendy said to her, "Go show Becky your bruises," thinking the woman would take her glasses off so I could get a clear view of the side of her face.

The woman motioned me on toward my office, and followed me. She closed my office door behind us, and before I knew what the hell was happening, she was unzipping her jeans. I thought maybe she had some weird bruise just at her waistline that she wanted to show off, in addition to the ones on the side of her face. So I sat down, to get out of her way. Remember, my office is a small room. Sometimes it's an extremely small room.

I was seriously wrong in my guess as to the bruise's location. She dropped her jeans completely, stood in front of me in her blouse and panties, and showed off a bruise that was about five inches tall and circled her thigh.

To say the least, I was startled. I mean, there I was, sitting at my desk looking at an almost-half-naked woman's thigh, in my office at the law firm. Even though the door was closed, anyone who wanted to see me could have come in. And then there's the window, which faces the sidewalk and parking lot, and into which any passing person could look. There are blinds, but they were open.

And it is definitely not my habit to be that close to another woman's crotch.

I was very glad her next act was to put her jeans back on. I'm going on the assumption that she had been taking painkillers and was not thinking clearly. At least I hope that was the case.

* * * * * * * * * * *

If you're looking for the Februarium entries, they're here: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday.

Text � copyright 2000-2003 Becky