Becky Says...

February 2003

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February 24

Assorted things tonight.

In reading a letter to the United Network for Organ Sharing, I learned that the physician who treated my mother during her last days, and in fact who told me she was going to die, was involved in the Jesica Santillan case (the heart and lungs transplant-gone-terribly-wrong). There's no significance to this; it's just one of those coincidences.

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I'm not sure what was going on with office-dog Zoe today, but for an hour or so she seemed determined to be with me as much as possible, and wanted her head petted nearly constantly.

This presented a problem if I needed to use both hands for something, like say typing, because Zoe's preferred method for letting it be known that she's still desirous of being the center of my attention is to butt her head into my arm. After the umpteenth time she had done this, I told her if she didn't settle down, I was going to have a hissyfit. I think she believed me; at least she quit smacking into me.

By the way, in Zoe's workplace rules, I'm in charge of lunch treats, late-afternoon treats, and water. Yes, I am well trained.

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The day was a busy one, with lots of paper going out the door at the law firm. There were errands to be run after work, because they didn't all get done yesterday. And now I'm weary. Sleep sounds like a fine idea right about now.

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.)

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

Text © copyright 2000-2003 Becky