My buddy, whom in September I will have known thirty years, and I are looking for wives, girlfriends, whatever, and in furtherance of that dream, we are looking for young ladies who are set apart and not just the hoi polloi. It seems a worthy quest which has been delayed because of reasons. I was too busy with hospitals and educational institutions to be the Timothy to his Titus. Realizing that allusion is not precisely apropos, it seems close enough, I shall play Sigma to his Alpha; 'tis a comfortable position for me, the esoteric outsider. This should be fun, particularly since I've been praying for something like this, in the words of balladeer Tom Jones, 'for the longest time.'
We're soon going to go questing for wives at a local megachurch. He went through the seminary and knows some of the small group leaders there. After all, 'it's not what you know, it's who you know.'
We were just discussing it over messenger, milestones. Yeah, milestones, ya dig?
Knowing that memory issues are quite common with brain injury has made hyper vigilant about keeping my faculties: wit, memory, locquationskills sharp, with the edge gossamar sharp.
Eventually I thought, 'I can go to the store tomorrow after I go weightlifting with my longtime (~30 years) friend after church -- I even contacted him via facebook messenger. Serendipitously, I did not make a move directly from the gym, for when I got home and opened my drawer,staring me right in my four-eyes was my . In my morning haste, I must've missed it.
Who knows, I may just pick up some, dime-a-dozen, spare combs. Redundancies are a safe thing.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained; 'twas worth a roll of the dice.
Saturday June 15 will demarcate the 23rd anniversary of the worst day of my life.
It was that day in 1996 that the T-bone car accident caused my brain to be bathed in my blood.
As I learned in my Psychology 101 course that I took one summer before I graduated high school, blood is highly caustic to the brain. I felt I needed to get a jump start on college. The injury put me behind the eight ball, so much to make up, or so I thought.