Essaying the Situation
Friday, September 17, 2004
Feeling the Burn, Savoring the Spice
    I think my mother may have experienced an episode of work-out drunkenness, today.
    While I was running my one outside-the-house errand and pleasurably contemplating my mother's exercise session and the almost immediate effect it had on her I realized that she must have gotten a little drunk on endorphins.
    Here's why I think this may have happened. I think it was an endorphin surge that led her to suddenly decide that today was the day for her to recommence getting the mail, something she always used to do whether or not she could do anything else.
    After thumbing through the mail she dashed it on her dinner stand next to her rocking chair disappointedly.
    "What's the matter?" I asked.
    "Wasn't what I was expecting," she harrumphed.
    That's odd, I didn't realize she was expecting something. "What do you mean?"
    "None of it's interesting."
    I laughed. "Oh, I get it. You're looking for personal letters! Well, considering that you haven't written any for a long time and you're one of the few letter writers in the family, alive or dead, maybe it's time. Now, can you see some sense in getting some stamping stuff and making some cards for note writing?"
    "Was that why [MCS] wanted me to do that?"
    "Yes. She thought you'd be more prone to write if you made the cards yourself."
    "Hmmm...good idea. I'll have to consider that."
    So, I'll keep it on her mind.
    Then, she decided she was hungry pre-standard-lunch-time and I suggested and made for her popcorn and V-8 juice. When I scolded her for not drinking her V-8 juice she glared at me and said, "I've drunk all I need."
    "Oh, ho, ho, Mrs. Hudson! I see! Well, then, if that's true, let me see your legs!"
    She turned coy. "I charge for that, you know."
    "O.K. Here's my admission. One empty glass of V-8 juice, courtesy of yours truly. I'll show you mine, you show me yours."
    She smiled an acknowledgement to the challenge, picked up her glass and swilled her juice. Afterward she said, "You know, I like V-8 juice."
    I know.
    Finally, as she was getting ready for her nap, aside from her usual surprised expression of concern over having to wear three pairs of paper underwear when she lays down, she decided that, today, it wasn't necessary. Period. End of discussion.
    This time, knowing we were approaching a sensitive area of personal dignity, I changed my response tone. I pleaded with her. I told her that she may be right, maybe today they aren't necessary, but do they bother her sleep?
    "Goodness, no!" Ludicrous suggestion.
    Well then, I begged, would she do this for me? If, indeed, it plays out that her bladder has decided to stay awake when she sleeps (she mentioned, here, that she liked the way I put that), then we'll stop with the guardian underwear, thank the gods, they're not cheap and not tax deductible. "But, let's just wait and see, okay? So I know I don't have to do two loads of wash today? Please, for me?"
    She granted me my wish.
    So, it seems, endorphins work the same way in the Ancient as they do in the rest of us. Except that, the less you have to lose, the less likely you are to exercise caution under The Influence of Endorph.
    Good. This is the woman who encouraged me to steal a county sign to which I'd taken a fancy in a remote location in Utah years ago, even insisted on accompanying me and helping me stow it. This is the woman who, when I lived in Pinetop and wanted very much to respect the area, had her heart set on collecting cattails, which was illegal, in a marsh not far from my cabin. I apprised her of the illegality...this is the woman who told me she'd go without me, then, so I went, reluctantly, and we had the best time goofing on each other about spotting Forest Marshals and got some wonderful specimens. She cocks her eyebrows and grins in the face of danger, the same way she was cocking her head and grinning at me, today. Most people would not suspect this of her but, upon hearing it, would probably believe it. She's always kept a low profile. For all practical purposes, she has bowed her back, over the years of her life, with her modest presentation. But, if you lean over a bit and look her in the eye after an exercise session, well, you begin to wonder if her back hasn't bowed because of her incessant turning aside to conjure out of view of curious eyes.
    Endorphins become her, especially in her Ancient years.
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