Women Folk

Girls, Chicks, Ladies, Women ........Hell, Females in general.  Fascinating creatures.  Yes they are.

I have spent a lifetime observing them and I still do not understand them.  I have given up searching for that understanding.  I now just enjoy their company, their presence, their very existence.  

I have at times hated them or maybe just hated certain female thems.  I may have told myself after having my heart torn out, chewed up and spit out in front of me that women, all women, are evil.  That was but a knee jerk instant to relieve the resulting gut wrenching agony of the moment.  I have at times been totally clueless as to why I had pissed one or a group of them off.  But I guess what brain froze me the most were the occasional times I pleased them without knowing how, leaving me with nothing but a Mona Lisa smile to explain why. 

Regardless, The Ladies are a part of my life, your life, our lives.  They provide us with a rudder.  They balance out the meathead guy madness.  Women are more than a convenient foil to male stupidity.  They keep our planet turning at a reasonably sane rpm..

Women often occupy my mind. Maybe now more than when I was young, numb and on the hunt. Back then I didn't often consider what made them tick. I accepted they were a different species and all I wanted was to well, let's just say, my hormones ruled my actions. As I got older and my sinful lusts had waned to a degree, I began to try to understand them in earnest. I did not lose any sleep, but I did want to push through some of the mystery that had enshrouded them for the first 40 years of my life. I hit a wall, a frustrating wall. 

Some years ago, maybe 5 or so, my local corner of Maine was suffering through a brutal bout of the flu. The flu remedy shelves were empty at most of the local grocers and pharmacies.  My wife had been sharing the joy of that flu epidemic for more than a few days.  If anyone fit the description, "Death warmed over", my wife would have been the perfect role model.  

She got over the flu, then immediately picked up a bout of pneumonia and landed in the hospital for a few hours.  After a few dashes of nebulizing (sic), some intravenous injections of serious antibiotics and steroids, my daughter and I hauled her home to hopefully recover. She was positive death would have been kinder.

Over the years I noticed that my wife's road to recovery always seemed to lean on the feminine rituals she had accumulated during her life. Nothing puts one on the road to recovery faster than relying on things one used to do on automatic. I had left her on the couch barely alive.  I went to the garage to begin tearing apart my snow blower.  

I came back up to the living room.  On the couch sat my wife and my daughter facing each other.  They were both sitting up and passing back and forth a bottle of  skin cream. One would squeeze a splooge on their hand and then hand the bottle to the other.  While one rubbed the cream into an elbow or hand, the other squeezed another splooge out and hit some area they felt needed anointing.  My wife still looked awful but she was upright and smiling as she creamed herself.  She and my daughter were hard into a conversation about some TV show they both found hilarious.  Just two ladies sharing a moment as only two ladies can.  

I watched them silently.  I smiled.

Some things you accept without worrying about why.  And if it ain't broke, definitely don't try to fix it.

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The only tune that I could possibly use has to be " Fat Bottom Girls" by Queen