This week I'm doing something a bit out of the ordinary. You could be wondering what is considered to be ordinary, in terms of this column, and you would be on target with your thoughts.
First off, I haven't raved about a person in a coon's age, and, in doing so, I shall pulverize two feathered creatures with one boulder.
This particular complimentary column is about my dear friend, Karen Morrison-Dygert, who is celebrating a birthday on January 21. Just in case you are perplexed as to how writing such a thing could lead to two birds being slain, here is why.
You see, this is her actual birthday gift. Yes, I'm certain that she will be thrilled to the marrow to receive a delightful present, in the form of the written word. For those who are totally familiar with my antics, I'm sure you've ascertained that I'm taking this route due to being totally, not partially, but, totally, cheap.
Just in case you haven't figured out the second goal of this blather, I will explain. As I mentioned last time, I'm doing my best to provide the vast readership with original content. So, when I'm finally done causing all in my path to fall into a deep slumber, I will have successfully reached a goal. I'm totally brilliant, I realize. Light applause and please, throw money.
OK, allow me to begin by saying that I apologize, in advance, to those who do not know this gal and could give a rodent's tuchas about her birthday. I'm penning this so that I can say, in all good consciousness, that I presented her with something—ANYTHING, for her big day.
Here goes: Karen Morrison, I'm calling her by her birth name, as it is in my nature to do so, was born in 1965 and it's been a hard trip ever since.
Karen and I have been friends since todlerhood, (I know, it's not a word), hence, the reason for her life being described as a “hard trip.”
She is known throughout the land for her ability to genuinely listen and, as my ex husband said, (the ONLY time he was right, by the by), she makes one feel as if he/she is the only person in the room, during a conversation.
The only exception to the above-mentioned rule is when the two of us get together. Due to some sort of cosmic displacement, when Karen and Lisa are as one, I believe she finds it to be a touch difficult to concentrate on others. It could be because of the sheer madness that ensues.
Honestly, it's a bad situation, anyway one looks at it, when we share the same breathing space. Just ask her brother, Michael, her aunt, Linda Kean, or her charming husband, Eric, if you don't believe me. Actually, most anyone within earshot knows about our antics so, just tap the person next to you on the shoulder and ask.
OK, moving right along, Karen really does brighten up any room, and even the outdoor region of our land, with her infectious smile and good attitude. Also, if she is truly in a hideous mood and, as she would say, has had a “gut load” of those in her midst, she still fakes it. I don't, by the by. Perhaps this is why no one comes a calling anymore.
Sorry, I digressed into some type of pity scenario. I shall pull it all together and continue with this stunning essay.
Where was I? Oh, that's right. I was talking about Karen's fantastic demeanor. The above-mentioned qualities have led to her reputation for being one of the best nurses to grace the planet. Not only but, she has won awards, (just in my mind), for her exemplary bedside manner.
It's now time to perform the infamous segue into the next paragraph. That way, I can blather about a childhood memory or some other sleep aid.
You might really find this hard to believe but, it's true. As a child, I could be, well, kind of difficult, to put it delicately. For one example, I used to torture this gal by shaking her down for money. I would crawl under her bed and demand a dollar before I would consider slithering back out again. She would give in to my sick demands and I was able to start a savings account.
Her husband finally put an end to those shenanigans. Not to mention, I was finding it to be increasingly difficult to maneuver under the beds in their home.
When we supposedly grew up, Karen decided that a career in nursing was for her. She slaved away by slinging hash at Mama Bear's, for just one job example, in order to earn a college education. The youth of our nation could take a lesson from her, don't you think?
She has been in the nursing game since sometime in the 1980s and now is a Hospice nurse. My hat goes off to any person in that job description as it takes a very special person to comfort those in their last stages of life. Karen is, indeed, that kind of human being and I respect her so much for that. (See, I had to be serious for once, in this blasted piece.)
I will now bring it down to a mild roar, as I'm prepping to end the torture—I mean the novel.
In closing, (stop breathing those heavy sighs of relief), I must impart that not only is Karen Morrison a professional caregiver, she is also one of the best friends a person could have. She can, and will, keep a secret, even in the face torture. I could tell her that I knocked off a liquor store in Houston, in 1985, and she would never breathe a word about it. Oops, the feline has escaped the sack on that note.
She is loyal to a fault and is simply a joy in many ways. We make our own fun and, if we are the only ones wetting our pants, due to the hilarity of it all, it doesn't phase us. We just continue to entertain ourselves and attempt some pleasure in this life.
The bottom line is that I am totally, not partially, but, totally, honored to have her in my life.
Hats off to Karen Sue Morrison on her birthday. Thanks for making me laugh when I wanted to leap from a cliff. Have a wonderful birthday and all that jazz.
(Now, Karen, cut this out of the paper, go purchase a frame and you will have your birthday gift from me. I know, I know, I do go overboard with giving but, that's just the way I am.) THE END.