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Welcome to Stories of Heart! ~ If you are not a subscriber and this has been passed on to you, join us by sending a blank e-mail to [email protected] with "subscribe" in the subject line. And get the love direct! Tour our web site: http://www.geocities.com/jenniferioliver2001 ________________________________________________________ "Regret is an appalling waste of energy. You can't build on it; it's only good for wallowing in." -- Katherine Mansfield ________________________________________________________ Folks, give a Texas-sized howdy to a new contributor, Lissa Lee, whose story below gives you a glimpse into one side to her personality (sorry, I couldn't resist, Lissa!). It's bound to make you think of your own embarrassing moments! Thank you, Lissa! ________________________________________________________ PERCODAN PANTIES Monday morning the pain pulverizing my jaws awakened me. I couldn't close my mouth. During the night, my upper wisdom teeth had dropped down through my gums and locked my mouth open at an odd angle. Great! Being the ever-resourceful mother, I swallowed ten baby aspirins, swabbed my gums with the kids' teething gel, and piled the crew into the car. Communicating like a ventriloquist with a lisping drool, I updated my kids on my condition, and off we went. After depositing them at school, I made a beeline to my dentist. Mercifully he squeezed me in and took the X-ray. Dr. Newton* just smiled and shook his head. "You know, I've been after you for years to get those teeth removed." My best impish smile and shoulder shrug were met with furrowed brows. "Well, now's as good a time as any. I'm already in the chair," I muttered loosely, trying not to drip. "Sorry, I don't do surgery," Dr. Newton replied. "What?!" "That's right, missy. You'll have to make an appointment with an oral surgeon and have them removed." "But what am I supposed to do in the meantime?" "Eat a lot of soft foods you can slurp off a spoon, I guess," Dr. Newton chuckled. "But you don't understand. We start Dixie Regional Tournaments tonight. I'm the official scorekeeper. I have to be at the game. Isn't there anything you can do for the pain until I can see the surgeon?" Well, that's what I tried to say. It probably sounded more like, "*&(%#^@+@#!" Dr. Newton just laughed. He handed me a prescription for Percodan and sent me on my way. His aide connected me with the surgeon. If all went well, the teeth would be out Friday. Until then I would just have to be content with my imitation of a teething toddler. I wondered if a bib was appropriate with business attire. With the prescription filled, I went on to work. Within thirty minutes, I was feeling no pain. Judging by my coworker's snickers, the drugs were probably working really well. Evidently I was gliding through my workload completely unaware of any agitations. I had to make up work and left later than normal, preventing me from running home to change. I would simply have to go to the baseball field in my suit. Oh well, there were worse things. How "worse" I was soon to discover. I met my kids at the ballpark. My oldest was playing in the tournament. My middle son had volunteered to work the gate, and my baby girl was already scouting the crowd for elderly people to serve drinks and snacks. "Good," I thought. "Everyone's occupied, I'm feeling okay, and we should be out of here by ten o'clock hopefully." After a brief meeting with the league president, the coaches and umpires were ready to start. I floated up the stairs leading to the press box to assume my position. Looking up, I noticed Marcus was there. My heart skipped a beat! Marcus and I had been talking off and on during the season. He was THE most eligible bachelor in the entire little league, and I was hoping to change his status. The fact he would be joining me in the press box boosted my morale tremendously. Then I remembered how ridiculous I looked with my drooling, open mouth. Not even my tailored suit could enhance my droopy jaw. "God, please don't let him notice," I begged. I took a deep breath, smiled, and entered the press box. Marcus greeted me. I nodded and garbled something about being glad to see him and looked forward to his help with the game commentary and oh, don't mind the drool - I have lockjaw! Marcus tried not to stare. Marcus took the microphone and began announcing the teams, players, and coaches. We played the national anthem over the P.A. system, and the ump cried, "Play ball!" My pain cancelled, the Percodan was now tampering with my depth perception. Setting my score pads, pencils, team line-ups, and nachos down on the desk, I got ready to slip onto the bench. And I had just about made it when I felt myself leaning ... leaning ... backwards ... further ... further ... CRASH! Instead of sitting lady-like on the bench, I had flipped completely off the back of the bench with my back flat on the floor and my legs straddled over the top. My professionally cut skirt covered my waist to my face. My feminine mystique was no longer hidden. And the hot, humid, summer baseball air was my only clothing. There I lay. Totally exposed. Suspended between the floor and the bench. Panties, slip, and pantyhose all neatly displayed for Marcus. And me, all I could do was laugh. Not that sweet, innocent girlish giggle of embarrassment. No, I was guffawing so hard Marcus was afraid to come near me. The drugs had done their magic. All the fans and players heard the crashing thud and hysterical raucous over the P.A. system. The umpire froze the game. Soon the press box was flooded with officials trying to coax their inebriated scorekeeper to a full and upright position. After a ten-minute game delay, I was sober and ready to start. Marcus remained to do his colorful commentary, but he kept to his side of the box all night. Any hopes of a hot summer romance were now squashed on the press box floor. The tournament ended Thursday night. And Friday afternoon I was minus two teeth and waltzing home on the remnants of the anesthesia. Sigh. Aren't drugs wonderful? * All names have been changed. Lissa Lee [email protected] Copyright © 2002 by Lissa Lee. All rights reserved. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ About the author: Lissa Lee has spent her life bouncing below the Mason-Dixon Line to finally settle in Louisiana. Her high school graduation prophesy slated her for the New York Times' Best Seller List by their 10th reunion. A little off schedule due to surviving a divorce and raising 3 kids alone, she's now back on track and pursuing her life-long goal of writing. Her first story has been published in the latest Heartwarmers book, "Heartwarmers of Spirit: Overcoming Life's Challenges" by Azriela Jaffe. You can find it at Amazon.com or click on the book cover at http://geocities.com/jenniferioliver2001/. _________________________________________________________ Find out how Roger Dean Kiser, Sr., is using his life to spell success for orphans coast to coast! He's started the Sad Orphan Foundation in hopes that other orphans may experience kindness. As Roger said, it was acts of kindness, however small, that saved him. For more information, please visit Roger's web site at http://www.geocities.com/thesadorphanfoundation. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ If you own a small business, or you are in an intimate relationship with someone who does, sign up for the Entrepreneurial Couples Success (ECS) Newsletter by Azriela Jaffe! This FREE newsletter can help you achieve your business goals while sustaining a loving marriage. You'll find humor, advice, business and relationship tips, and plenty of sharing. It's simple. Just e-mail Azriela at [email protected] to subscribe to her newsletter. Check out her cool website "Anchored Dreams" at http://www.isquare.com/crlink.htm. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Treat yourself to "Wisehearts' Weaving Small Wisdoms," a free newsletter that is like receiving roses through e-mail. Terri McPherson ([email protected]), one of my favorite writers, is the creator of this inspiring e-zine. To subscribe, send her an email! You have a choice of receiving inspiration in plain text, HTML, or large print. So give yourself this gift and subscribe now. Because you're worth it. _________________________________________________________ QUOTE FROM LESSER KNOWN PEOPLE Four-year-old Matthew said, "Mommy, anteaters slurp up ants." Ethan, his older brother, added, "Yeah! They like to eat ant Slurpees." _________________________________________________________ ON THE HOMEFRONT It's hard to believe another school year has whooshed by us again. Ethan is graduating Kindergarten on Thursday, Cody is headed for second grade, and Matthew is bemoaning yet another year of staying at home with Dad, helping him out with Madison. My baby has taken his first steps! And he's 41 years old. Yes, Stephen is now upright with the help of a crutch and two hard-plastic boots. He's beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel ten weeks after his 20-foot fall. We can't begin to thank you enough for your thoughts and prayers! _________________________________________________________ LOVE, JENNIFER I. OLIVER AND FAMILY [email protected] "To live that in thy last long sleep, Smiles my be thine wile all around thee weep." - Nellie L. Wallace, June 24, 1873 _________________________________________________________ This E-mail may be forwarded in its entirety, but first ask the writer for permission before forwarding. Thank you for doing the decent thing! Ü ________________________________________________________ SUBMIT STORY, QUOTE, OR FAMILY LOVE MOMENT: http://www.geocities.com/jenniferioliver2001/submission.htm FEEDBACK: [email protected] ________________________________________________________ |
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