K is for Kung Fu Fighter. So far, in my 46 years, I have not taken any martial arts classes at all. I have observed one of my children taking Tai kwan do lessons, but I haven’t gotten around to taking any karate classes. The only thing I think I would really like to do is take a women’s self-defense class, but I’ve heard one of the things they teach you is to yell out some profanity at your would-be attacker, and I wonder if I could do that. I’m not much of a kusser either.
L is for Lawbreaker. Once, about 20 years ago, I was shopping in a major department store here in town. I was carrying a large bag I had just gotten for Christmas. All of a sudden, store security took me by the arms and insisted I accompany them to the security offices. When we got there, they sneeringly said, “Do you know why you are here?” I raged back, “I assume you think I took something!” “Please empty your bag,” they suggested with a knowing look. I started slamming everything down on the counter, piece by piece, “Here’s my PURSE. Here’s my JACKET. Here’s the shirt I’m RETURNING to American Eagle. Here’s the CAN OPENER I just bought and here’s the RECEIPT.” They looked at each other. “Shoot,” they whispered. Their crack security chick was sure she had seen me put a shirt into my bag. And I was sure they hadn’t. So, they let me go. Even now, my entire family laughs about this because of all the people to detain for shoplifting, I’m not the top choice, you know?
M is for Medical Professional. Not even close. I can’t imagine spending my day around sick and/or dying people, although I have great respect for people who do. It actually amazes me the amount of stuff that doctors and nurses know. I do wish sometimes that I could be a fly on the wall of a treatment room for a week or so. I think doctors and nurses must hear some pretty outlandish things.