April 1, 2013

• Confession; I’m Just Not Confident And Cool

  May your Easter have been filled with joyful moments, memories, and all which shall remain to sustain us until the blazing seal of Pentecost brings us to the summer heat and all that is in Ordinary Time;  and some of you will not get the Ordinary Time, but trust me it is actually extraordinary.  Any day we are given has some moment which will stand out, and only a few are blessed with the perfect recall of date, time, and hours.

  I have been typing along, endeavoring to make up for the foolish mistake of accepting one whole bunch of friends on Facebook.  Now to begin with; let us be truthful, and tell it like it is — That Facebook friends are not apt to be drying their tears over an obituary which features even one half of their newest and best friends, for we all have varying degrees of whom we will accept in that realm of our lives.  Our remarks are casual, and we almost never complete a thought, for it is supposed to be social, and there is an appeal to short thoughts; You’ve been social, spit on your hand, dry it on your clothing, and wipe the sweat off after you have accepted a whole slew of friends.  I send out many blessings, and I usually tell folks, “I will respond to messages, for if any one needs to write me, then they are apt to have a small need for some sage advice or at least, for a kind word, and I will give you either to the best of my ability, and you are in no way obligated to take it, but I like to help where I can.

  We had to almost get second degrees in psychology back when I was in the degree program for nursing and health.  Now I think you are apt to be more apt to need a sport lack Track and Field sports, for you are taught to do what you need to with that patient and to move your rear on to hustle out by the time clock at quitting time.  I used to do my patient care, sign out, sit and do my charting for free; but that was determined to be illegal, for I could not write that I was doing all of this charting after the fact, even though most good nurses did just what I did to make the patients feel that you gave one damnable thing about them.  You are there to help make health care dollars, and television states that, “Nurses make a difference.”  Some still really try hard to, but the time clock is your measure of, “Can you get your work done,” assess your patients and to get out on time.  I know things are really bad, for in a so called, really good hospital — They did almost kill me from a blood clot, though I told them it was happening.  A rapid death is a blood clot trying to get skate through your Pulmonary vessels then get stuck in the oxygenated blood where it can then lodge in a heart vessel and take you to that mansion in the sky.  I am carried away with stating, that I will try to help your weary soul, for God’s grace has been there to the point I am running out of lives!  Ye who are weary, I will do my best, and if my best is not good enough, then you need a health professional and not this aging nurse.

  Now that you understand that I took on life to feel very responsible for my fellow man, then I want to take you on a brief tour of my Facebook experiences of the evening, for I am endeavoring to be cordial, but I also want to tell them that I, Barbara Everett Heintz, have a really special book out which is called, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” and it is to be found on Amazon, Kindle, and Create Space, and I told this to everyone to whom I needed to thank for letting me befriend them.  Yep!  You do get a personal Post if I bothered you with a friend’s request.  This is just who I am, this think pulled out off some flowery meadow who must say, “Thank you.”  “Oh thank you for doing What?  And to Myself?!  You are a gross out thug and should be placed in a solitary sewer, and it may even be cool down there when the heat is 90 degrees and you are still trying to, “Do that thing to your sorry self.”  My evening of Facebook discovery has had some level of going through a magazine that has one side for the good, turn it over, and then you have found the Nasty Pages — Just plan Nasty.  Look, give me a break, for I endeavored to be a chaste woman for many years, but that is another story, another time.

  My most amazing thus far is that I have answered a friend’s request to a Kentucky girl.  She is blonde, though I do know my peroxide from some good store bought colors, and she did the best job anyone could have with peroxide, and she was somewhat an attractive woman, and men were sending little notes sooner than I could read, “Post.”  Here she stands, red, white, and blue bikini on, and the breast — Those breast were, measured by the size of the rest of her body — Fakes.  All was pouring out of that bikini, if I may call those hankies that, and I am telling you, that if she dated a short guy, and came too close, that poor SOB was going to be assaulted with those – A – Well, fluid filled bags of something, for these were lethal weapons, and I do not think they must be a burden to carry around under clothing, for she had EEE’s on a size 10 dress size body.  Next, she joyfully was displaying that she knew her way around the garden with a hose spraying water.  I kid you not, spraying water and leaning back but with forward shots, so there was nothing left to the imagination.  Had she been a very natural looking woman, I may have endeavored to say something like, “I do not know where you live, but if you need a job; By all means, just strut your stuff in to Hooters.”  I did not want to lift her life’s aspirations too high, and luck being that I would say such a thing — I would probably get a really mean letter stating that I was a sullen old bitch who could not take a joke.  This was no joke; this was a primordial animalistic call to a whole bunch of fellows cruising the net.  Even when I had  a body to brag about, my husband would have asked me off of which trash heap I got those rags which the poor thing was wearing.  I felt really bad for her at first, and then I began to presume that if she poses like that for a Facebook photo, then she knows what kind of response she is looking for, so she looked happy!  “Let it be, dear Lord, let it be.”

  Some people made me sad, for they looked sad, a dad with two little ones, a girl or two that surely had good hearts, but vivacious would be stretching the truth.  The guy with the Harley has said all they need with one photograph, so they will find their bliss.  I just felt a little stupid endeavoring to explain that even they might be interested in the Diaspora of The Southern Appalachian people, how white ghettos began to grow all over Rust Belt Cities, and the story of a woman endeavoring to crawl out from under the rock she was chosen to bear, but I decided to tell them about the book anyway, for on that Harley could be a man with a brain which could not be penetrated through normal CT scans; No, it may have been so dense that only Superman and Kryptomite or nite or whatever he was vulnerable to could possible have edged in to the density of that brain.  I have to lay off figuring some of these folks out.

  One was dressed in a costume straight from Beverly Hillbillies, an old show from my time in the barn, men and women whom I should have quickly matched up for they were meant for each other, their one chance to find everlasting happiness, and I am afraid to share their sites, for I would feel very guilty to match up a, “Born Again,” with a serial killer who just looked somewhat depressed and who did not have a resume.  I would phathom a guess that most of these people were not baptized at The Easter Vigil, and once more that is going to be a curiosity to those who are most used to the, “Altar Call;” same difference, only we had not altar back where I grew up, so they called it an, “Invitation.”  I mean this folks, the three terms are interchangeable, so let know one think you are dumb by responding, “A What.”

  There was a divorced woman from Livermore, California, and as miserable as the weather can be in the summertime there, our good friend in San Francisco who lives on a floor of our place said his parents are really enjoying it.  I once took a train out west, and a young lawyer wound up at my table one evening, and I felt pain for him as he explained that he was, not by his choice a lawyer in Livermore.  I felt really guilty for telling him that most of the young lawyers I knew had landed on their feet in great cities, but most of the ones I knew had also come out of Harvard.  I mean it!  I hated myself, but I meant no harm, I sort of took him for an accountant or from Livermore Labs, and when his stop was the one he had to get off to get his bus to Livermore, he looked as if his heart would  break.  I could not think of anything  consoling except to say, “At least it cools down to the 70s in the evening, and I will swear, that kid could not get off that train without a tear in his eye having just come back from East of the Rockies.

  Youth, Facebook is surely for the young, and beware of going to your granddaughter’s sight, for you cannot let on that you did not see these words, “Would you f— me, James?”  A grandmother’s face can be read like a sermon, and I had that, “Wait until I get my hands on you my dear little “W—-.” So just do not got there, for you are apt to be shocked, and I am getting too old for the electric chair, still legal in some states.  We used to call ours, “Old Smokie,” when I was but a girl in Tennessee.

  I know that I gave this a title, and I stand by my word, that I am not cool enough for Facebook.  One can move along from a person with bonds of faith so deep that the keys of my computer feel the hell’s fire if I do not help more people find their way to Jesus, not to mention that one still has impure thoughts even at my age.  “Oh;  Shut It,” for you too are going to grow old and parts you made over are going to be dragging at the bowling alley.  I have a few friends who send me neat things, wonderful songs, little words of inspiration, a kind thought for the day.  So many people mean well, but I just ran in to this random sampling of, “Friends,” through another friend, and I do not even remember who she was, so she is not apt to be among the forlorn when I take my place in the land where those who are alive cannot enter, but someone, please remind me to just keep myself off these friend’s lists, for I do enjoy good company, but even I get the girl in hankies and the water hose spray!  It is the guy with his boxers on his head and his behind spread in a most non-erotic position which has ruined my morning coffee.  I really am just not cool enough, and do you will see that when I tell you that mooning your Facebook guest should be grounds alone to crank Old Smokie up and let that bird fly away.

  Blessings through out your Easter season.

  Barb Hz

  “Pinkhoneysuckle,” Amazon, Kindle, Create Space and Pinkhoneysuckle Blog

   

  • 3:18 am
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