Soul, Body, and Lost Items

My heart and soul wanted to be at church today, but my body is still sore and slow-moving, not quite 100% ready to stay in any one position for too long, nor to be accidentally bumped, and I haven't had the kind of surgery that people are comfortable talking about.

I mean, if I were to limp in on a pair of crutches or shuffle behind a walker, people would say, "How'd that happen?" If I had my neck in a brace or my arm in a cast, most people would steer clear. But what is Joe Churchgoer gonna say if I brought a 4-inch foam toilet-ring shaped pillow to the service?

First of all, he'd probably be three years old. Second, being three means being curious and perhaps not quite in big boy undies or accustomed to big boy politeness. Third, his curiousity would find its way to his voicebox in the middle of a pastoral prayer just as he spotted my tushy-cushy.

"Mommy, is that lady potty training, too?"

----------------------

Yesterday I was awakened from a nap and experienced one of the side effects of the pain medication. This side effect isn't mentioned anywhere in the literature, online, or in ads. My surgeon didn't tell me about it either, probably because it's so rare. What is the side effect? Rhyming thoughts.

I kid you not, I woke up with this question on the brain: Have you seen the nail clippers? And lo and behold, I started thinking of all the places they could be and before I knew it, I had written about 12 stanzas answering the question with poetry. Really, really dumb rhymes that made me laugh all over myself. I've chosen to laugh more about disorganization and not let it make me feel like a monumental failure. They're just nail clippers, not my living will.

If you want me to post it, let me know.
If you have better ways to spend two minutes, as does my husband who cut me off in the middle of the second verse, I'll understand. No, it doesn't start out, "How do I lose thee let me count the ways?"