all of my life. yes. all of my life i have been directionally challenged.
that’s i believe the politically correct way to say it.
in case there are others whom are also challenged in this way.
god knows we must remain politically correct and not offend anyone.
i am not offended by this mild affliction. i freely admit to it!
actually… in the grand scheme of things to be afflicted with… it is MILD.
but to those of us whom have it… it’s a pain in the arse.
one thing. i shall no longer use the word ‘whom’. i simply do not like it…
correct though it may be. it is a dinosaur of the english language as far as i’m concerned.
is the peanut a bit touchy today you say???
no. i don’t think so. i was just thinking about it though.
the marine and i keep a debate going. neither of us can give to the other’s side.
HE says ~ “it’s a matter of attention. you just don’t pay attention.”
I say ~
“i do too pay attention! i just don’t know where i am. or how to get where i’m going.”
(or even sometimes how to get back for that matter)
and the debate goes on and on.
here’s the deal old bean.
here’s my side of it.
the marine’s not here to defend himself. so be it. he’s a big guy. he can take it.
now. my dear mes amis and mes amies . . .
I KNOW PERFECTLY WELL HOW TO READ A MAP.
i wish i had her waistline.
i can even fold them up after reading them.
ok. so i do sound a bit touchy.
but mon dieu! nobody frowns or makes fun of you if you can’t wiggle your ears!
99% of the men in the world can probably do this.
that has nothing to do with anything. i don’t even know why i brought it up.
i was frantically searching in vain for an analogy of directional challengement.
i just made up that word! i kinda like it
here’s the thing old bean. i have always had to start an hour early when i go
someplace new to me for an appointment. i do. sad. but it’s my ‘built~in lost time.’
i’m a stickler for punctuality and it’s the only way to keep from being late.
directions to me are LEFT or RIGHT.
this monstrosity is my recurring nightmare.
in 2003 i had an angioplasty here . . .
which also became the procedure for implanting a stent in my heart.
though i didn’t know it would come to that at the time.
i drove myself as i always have for anything like that . . .
i parked where i thought it would be easy to find my car.
i wrote myself a little map so i could find it again when i was released.
the thing was… there were complications… like cardiac arrest in the recovery room.
they kept me overnight… and refused to let me drive myself home the next day.
i had to try to explain to the marine where i’d left my car. not a good time.
but i’m getting ahead of my story.
there’s always an information booth. lit up with neon in the HUGE lobby.
no need for directions to find this booth! LOLOL.
oh my. i’m getting delirious.
i step up and ask how to get to the cardiology department.
it’s only 103 degrees in the shade outside. why did this have to happen in the summertime?
anyhow. the lovely man in the pink jacket and the white hair looked kindly upon me.
he said . . .
“oh my dear. you’re in the wrong building. this is the east wing of the north building.
you need to be in the west wing of the east building. it’s in the southeast corner on the
i am standing before him. already with a heart that is oxygen deprived.
i would call a taxi cab but i see none in the lobby.
i smile and say…
“well. i have about 30 minutes til my appointment. may i just sit here a bit to cool off
before i go back out to the parking lot?”
“oh! you don’t have to go back outside! just go to those elevators on the east side of the lobby”
then take one down to the TUNNELS.
you will then follow the yellow arrows to the EAST building.”
i must be looking a little worried. because he says …
“don’t worry. if you just follow the yellow arrows you’ll make it!”
so cheerful was he . . . that i tried it.
there’s never a horse when you need one.
i won’t bore you with anymore sordid details.
obviously. i made it to the damn building. had the heart stent. died. revived.
and here i am to tell about it and the CITY sized hospital where they did
the dastardly deed.
but if you ever give me instructions with 9 different directions included . . .
as in south side of the northeast wing of the western portico under the . . .
i’ll probably SLAP you.
yup. here’s my marine. my ‘little’ brother. who is now 6 feet tall.
and i kid you not. ever since he’s been 4 years old he has known what direction he’s going.
i don’t understand it.
he’s been to viet nam ~ honduras ~ turkey ~ iraq
and that’s only at the rquest of the government.
he and his wife chris traveled all over europe. he never got lost.
he used to go into the deep woods alone when he was only 14
after our father died. he’d spend the entire weekend there.
yes. mother worried about him… and yet… we both knew …
it’s just how he is and what he can do. i’d say he’s a survivor.
if you ever want some guy who can get you through it … it would be him.
so. i suppose… with his INNATE sense of direction… it is only natural
for him to think it’s a natural thing everyone else has too … and with me
it’s only a matter of my not paying attention to where i am.
WELL ! ! !
used to you could always get directions from these people . . .
lotsa luck trying that now.
now it’s a super fast help yourself whirlwind half grocery/gas affair.
first… they’re too busy now. and second… they don’t want to be bothered…
and third… i’m not sure they even know! they shrug and say “next please!”
mes amis and mes amies
did i tell you? the reason for all the petite french phrases?
i am lately addicted to agatha christie’s
HERCULE POIROT ! ! !
i LOVE that little belgian detective! i have found i can watch them all
on youtube… FREE! mon cher and cheri!
i have watched so many that i can hear his voice in my head even as i write this.
such style. such elegance.
and he is never lost.
but then he has ‘hastings’ to drive him.
and here is my own version of monsieur hastings . . .
my very own marine !
dearest old bean . . .
summer is here.
happy first day of summer by the way!
and if you should be doing any traveling soon . . .
i wish you
bon chance mes amis and mes amies ! ! !
i shall be traveling to London and solving cases with poirot!
from my trusty white wicker chair old bean! LOL!
don’t get lost!
til soon old bean.