While I was on a long run the other day, my mind wandered around the forest, found a few trees, and came back. Then I realized I was thinking about women named "Sue" and how many of them are BEE-OTCHes. Yeah, crazy huh? It's not "Susan" or "Suzanne" or "Suzie". Apparently, only the name "Sue" creates this horrifying image of pure female witchy bitchiness from my haunted past.
When I was 10 and taking swimming lessons at the local pool, the instructor you DID NOT want to get was.....you guessed it, SUE. She was old. She was probably 28, but anybody over 16 was ancient to silly 10-year-olds. She was mean. She actually made you learn the strokes and swim and yelled at you if you didn't. Sheesh!
I'm sure all the bullies in junior high were named "Sue" or "Annette" but the next infamous "Sue" I encountered was another instructor. This time, I was an adult taking a fitness training class at the YMCA. SUE was the drill sergeant....er...trainer and she made you do the work/exercises correctly and yelled at you if you didn't. OK. Maybe she didn't yell but she sure had a loud voice. Heaven forbid if you had a question about something....
Just to be clear, our fellow blogger named Sue from Farvel Cargo is NOT a BEE-OTCH. I've only "met" her online and she seems to have not inherited the "Sue" curse. Evil Twin and Cat love her blog!
Wait. I think she is my new boss.
In other news, Mom is looking less like a raccoon. The coloring, with the help of gravity, has moved down her face to her neck. She is able to see better but still has a big knot on her head.
She has a broken nose and she saw the nose doctor today. The doctor said that it's up to her whether or not to fix her broken nose with surgery. Unless she is having difficulty breathing or insists the nose be reshaped, the surgery is not a necessity. As of right now, she is not having any breathing problems. No surgery is planned.
Her arm is still very sore. She wants to try to drive but I think she knows she's not ready yet.
Thanks to all of you for your thoughts and prayers.
What was that?
Oh, the poor cat fell off the couch. He looks so surprised. He thinks I pushed him. Now he's licking himself in disgrace. Silly beast.