As I am only about five foot four, things are usually never "too short." Yet this morning, I twhacked my noggin so hard against the top of the downstairs doorframe that I could practically taste the flavor of the blow with my teeth. No blood, no concussion, but hours later, my scalp is still tender at the area of impact. I don't think the flying hop I took off the second step was in my favor.
While my skull once again proved its toughness, the rest of me is feeling very wimpy at present. I think my body has decided to cramp once per bloodcell it discharges, and every inch of me is nauseated by this fairly excruciating process. For awhile I felt like I was about to heave up a few major body parts, but I think I'm over the worst of it now.
And now to balance out the awful with some awww.
A lot of people ride this six a.m. bus as part of their daily commute, and as it is quite cold at that time, you recognize them first by attire, and second by face. Though I only rode at this hour for a few weeks, I could tell that this had been a ritual of years for some of them by the way they quickly greeted familiar faces. At first, I said hello to no one. As I became a regular, however, I began to smile and interact with a few. One of these souls that I would exchange salutations with on a regular basis was an elderly man who always appeared impeccably dressed, favoring a tailored, long camel-colored wool coat, a very pressed shirt, and a tie. He always sat near the front due to his walker.
The first day he spoke to me, he abruptly leaned over and said with complete frankness, "I admire your beauty. Make sure your man treats you right!"
I eventually came to see that not only did he consider himself a true gentleman (he was likely quite a charmer in his youth), but he was truly the ideal of a generation almost fabled and nearly gone. To him, beautiful women were wonderful, and should be treated as such. He took great pride in being able to provide for his wife's every whim, and as long as she was happy, then he considered his goals obtained. I never got the impression that he considered himself inferior or thought of women as mere ornaments or fluff. He was confident in himself and his support. While I'm sure there was some amount of exaggeration in his speech, he seemed very honestly and openly satisfied with having achieved a financial status that enabled him to provide himself and his loved ones with every material comfort.
"My wife, she goes out and she shops, and she could spend ... oh, $600 on a pair of slacks, and I wouldn't even look twice at the price tag. I'd see that she got what she wanted," he stated with a definite nod. "I'm not like other men who go out and spend all the money at a bar. I look out for her. You have to work, don't you? Well, if you were mine, you wouldn't have to work, I'd see to it that you had all you wanted."
He concluded with, "If your man isn't treatin' you right, leave him! You should be treated like a jewel! Appreciated! Not later, but now!"
The other day, I caught myself quipping, "Hey, what can I say? Tauren are naturally homebodies." I paused. I had to think for a second before the problem with that statement became clear. Taurus. Not Tauren. Tauren moocows are not part of the zodiac!