By Patti Parish-Kaminski, Publisher
Recently, Mr. Kaminski has begun using adjectives in reference to me in particular states that I suspect are less than precious. Albeit these occurrences are both rare and random and typically happen on the fly, his verbal observations have given me pause. Now understand I’m not speaking of my actions of being in a particular state on any given day as rare and random; I’m speaking of his verbal expressions to my various states and such as rare, because we all know that I am absolutely precious until pushed.
It’s a new thing, and it’s an odd phenomenon. It’s kind of like watching golf on television. You know that annoying whispering that the sportscasters breathlessly and dramatically offer up to viewers as they announce the intensely boring play by play? That’s Mr. Kaminski commenting as I am a particular state about something. Frankly, it’s perplexing and downright unnecessary, because I absolutely cannot hear his under his breath pontifications through all of my hair.
Now a woman of less substance might take offense to his underlying editorial comments, but not this girl. You see, I’m a middle-aged, full-grown Southern woman. I have my own job, my credit cards work and my babies are finally off of payroll. I love Jesus, I love my amazing fam – including my number one husband – and I love myself – all size 5 of me. Y’all know you add the 1 and the 4 on the tag together and that equals 5 – getting you to the perfect size 5. It’s all about perspective.
I have the most amazing, supportive friends who I adore. I buy what I want, do what I want, wear what I want and best of all, it has finally happened: my “give a damn” has broke. Frankly, it’s liberating, and I highly recommend it.
When your “give a damn” breaks, the minutia of the madness dissipates. The little things no longer pester you like mosquitoes on a hot summer night or cheap shoes rubbing blisters on your heels. You learn to screen and AC your porch, and you buy good shoes. You drive right past that Pay Less and head straight to Neiman’s and Nordstrom’s for your shoe shopping. Trust me, it’s a lesson worth learning.
Frankly one of the reasons I became a professional porch sitter was when my “give a damn” broke. I realize many of the uninformed might ponder that porch sitting would be a waste of time. You see, their “give a damn” hasn’t broke yet. When it does, the mysteries of the universe will be revealed like the myriad of advantages to porch sitting.
I’m convinced porch sitting will make me live longer so that I can concentrate on aggravating Mr. Kaminski for several more years. It’s a lofty goal, and one that I am certain I can attain most definitely now that my “give a damn” has broke. I can faintly hear him muttering under his breath right now, but that’s okay, because I choose not to listen to what he’s saying. See how that works?
See y’all next week – on the porch!
Patti Parish-Kaminski
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