This weekend we had some friends over to the house for some good eats and games. Beth and Dave showed up with little Brennan (their 9mo old?? boy) and Fran and Dirk brought Gabby - their Boston Terrier. Conversation over dinner was great; outdone only by Lina's cooking - Pull Pork, roasted root vegetables and mashed potatoes; so tasty they could make a cactus cry (how's that for imagery).
Beth, Dave and Brennan had to leave early (not so early - 11PM) but not before Dave, Dirk and I had a conversation which has imprinted itself in the rough and tumble part of my psyche. While the ladies were conversing over....we'll I don't know what, because the men were in our corner in a deep discussion about "the delivery". See...both Dirk and Dave have "been there, done that". I was the only one without that merit badge. I just sat with my head perched on my fists - bobbing left to right and back again; somewhere between a head shake of "No" and one of "I want to answer yes, but the answer is still no". "You have to Tim!"; both insisting that I cut the umbilical cord. "Its like a piece of really tough calamari." Dave explains (now how's THAT for imagery). As if I would be swayed to yes by that description.
Still not convinced that its something I HAVE to or even want to do, my rough and tumble side asks itself..."What would Clint Eastwood do?" Can't I just wrestle a calf to the ground?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
I left the medical part to the medical professionals. You belong up near her head, holding her hand and being reassuring.
Thank you! I can use that in my argument to pass on that part of the experience :D
Post a Comment