I have very few memories of my grandmother, but I remember her as calm and small. Her back teeth were silvery, and she always wore a skirt and little heels if she left the house because she thought it was most comfortable that way. She loved to watch spelling bees on TV, and when we came to her house she always served sweet tea (which was off limits at our house.)

I remember a lot about her house, like that her bathroom was pink and white and smelled like Listerine. Her house and lawn was always immaculately tidy, and I can’t think of anything that changed about it for as long as I knew it. There was one little closet off of her kitchen for toys for the grandchildren, but it had some quiet games like checkers and a small square white plastic box with crayons, and maybe a ball. Her bedroom dresser had on it a small statuette of the virgin standing on a diamond that encased red roses, a picture of her with my grandfather (who I never knew), and an old picture of all my aunts and uncles and my mother looking so beautiful. There was also a fancy hand held mirror with a white handle, and a picture of Pope John Paul II stuck to the side of her mirror.

I loved to sit in the big chair next to the bookshelf by her door and flip through the books. My favorite was the one on Princess Grace of Monaco and I’d look through the pictures while listening to the big sea shell that sounded like the ocean. Sometimes I’d trudge outside to look over her snowball bushes or look out over the alfalfa field to the tiny white house in the distance that my mom pointed to and said that she was born in.

Really though, since I came after grandpa Martin passed, I had two grandmothers. Grandma Martin and my Aunt Mildred. Aunt Mildred always seemed really happy to see us, and she always remembered to treat us to the candy stash that they kept in the cabinet just left of the sink, (I remember Wrigley’s spearmint gum and bright orange soft circus peanuts), or bottled pop in the garage, or pull out some nice pastry from the white deep freezer by the back door. Aunt Mildred kept us in line if we got too rambunctious in the basement, or if she sensed us snooping around in the storage space behind the long curtain partition. (Some cousins found this space intriguing, but it scared me to even get close to it!) I think that I saw Aunt Mildred’s bedroom only twice because she kept the door closed. Inside, I remember a huge fan, a lot of plants, and a little statue of a black man in a long robe, which may have been the first depiction of a black man I'd ever seen. When I asked about him, someone told me it was Saint Martin, and I concluded that my mom’s side of the family had some very dark skinned people.

So, it was a bizarre week when a co-worker, who is also a roller-derby girl, came to my cube to talk shop and farted in my cube-silent but deadly. I let it go- I’m a southern woman, and not only do we not do that, we don’t acknowledge ladies that do. We do however talk about them behind their back in public forums like the internet. Like I explained to Chris, I believe this to have been a power play in the same way that some animals spray a musk to mark territory, but to tell you the truth, I’m baffled.

Then came the lady with the boxes and the stickers telling me that I had to move. When I asked where? she bluntly said that she didn’t know and that I should ask my manager. I have one of those managers that you know doesn’t know…so I searched through my inbox to find a clue. The space that I’d requested for 2 new contractors, pushed me out into the cold. I was to share a cube with the dwarf with the belching problems, kharmic debt for all my little people curiosity. Sure, I had co-workers that rallied behind be in my defense. My manager even chuckled when he heard, and then followed that with- it’s just happening too quickly for me to do anything about it. I went commando and took another place where I’ve been hiding from Corporate Real Estate and everyone else ever since.

My biggest confession however, comes from a Friday afternoon incident. My circuit was down. I had placed calls to the highest heights and the updates to come at any moment. I don’t know what was passing through my mind when I stuffed my cell phone into my back pocket and headed to the bathroom. In mid-grunt, the phone rang. I grabbed the toilet paper, whipped quickly and answered the phone. Then I just walked away. Left things afloat. The guilt lingers too.

• Exposure to poison ivy, oak, or sumac causes an itching rash that usually appears within 24-72 hours.
• The rash usually starts as small red bumps, and later develops blisters of variable size. The rash may crust or ooze.
• Different skin areas can break out at different times, making it seem as if the rash is spreading.
• Don’t let it ruin your life, it will try.

“…but why doIes poison ivy exist? Why do mosquiMtos exist?*”
These are the thoiughts of an existential nihilsist, who has not besen able to laey one fingerpridnt on me for two, almost thrYee weeks. The contaminaotion has ruuined my innocent outlSook on nature. The contamination has ruinoed his innocent outlook on me.

‘To humble us, Silly. Man is not too great to fear a plant, to fear a tiny bug…or even a microscopic organism.’ g
(You for instance, have even been made afraid of a girl for 3 weeks.)

I mean, after four months, the Phenylethylamine (PEA) cocktails I’ve beeln stealthily slipping my boyfriend were bound to wear off any moment. My superhuman personae is not for long, and the timing of the raash supports the natural relationshdip food chain. I must break up with him immediyatly, and then I can be free of all of the god damnoed nightmuares and maybe sit dowrn and enjoy a good meal agbain without my stomach tossing and turning.



I saw your file, aand I thought…so soon after seeing you for that pap?? I hocpe you’re alright! Crazy. Prettk.y bad case, yes yes…and I’ve seen 5 cases this week. So, one steroid shot, begin your steroid pack- 6 pills today, this is a topical steroid ointment...oh, and I like the Aveno Collidal Oatmeal Baths. Whoa. Yeah. Wow. Hmmm. In the butt? I’ve never had a…whoah…awe…bugs bunny bandaid? Cool. …So, watch out, these pills might make you act…weird… with a really strong appetite... but you must take every one.

I am laying in bed very quiet and still, careful not to cross contaminate myself. I am thinking about whether I should go into work and contaminate my co-workers (Already this week, I have won a drawerful of new pens, notebooks, and sundry office supplies that no one else is interested in since I brushed up against them.) My hands are shaking, my arms are lumpy and crusty, and the calamine might as well be toothpaste. In fact, I’m thinking about giving it a little tasty taste even though I know it’s wrong. I am thinking about whether I should let the guys mowing down my yard outside this very moment, know that the pile of twigs and plants upturned in the front yard, is a heap of venomous plants. But it is 7:30am and they are breaking a Dallas noise ordinance…and besides, am I a participant in the universe, or an observer? What was I just thinking about…? Doctor. Must get to the doctor….