Was Blind, But Now I See

The blind have always held a very special spot in my heart. It was my pleasure to raise two Guide Dogs for the Blind in my youth. Seeing the immense help they gave to their sightless counterparts gave me insight to a world I could never understand. But it was a universe that I decided to explore on Saturday at the Jiffy Lube.

I parked my Buick along side the Jiffy Lube on 5400 South. After taking a deep breath, calming my nerves, I exited the Buick and began stumbling toward the brick building. Groping for the entrance, my fingers touched the door handle and I shuffled into the lobby of the garage. One of the grease monkeys approached me and asked if he could help me. I let him know that I had parked my car on the west side of the building and that I needed him to change my oil. With that, I handed him my keys and felt my way to a chair.

Reverently, quietly, I waited for the man to come back. He opened the door and beckoned for me to follow him. I, of course, ignored him because I was blind. Clearing his throat he muttered, "Mr. Cannon, your car is ready. I'd like to go over what we did today." I stood up and waited for him to come over and escort me, arm in arm, to the computer screen. Keeping my lazy glazed eyes loosely glued to his face, I began tearing up as he said, "You can read here what we changed on your car today." Swallowing every nerve to giggle, my voice quivering I said, "I can't see."

The poor man who was waiting on me shrank when he realized his blunder against the blind. Reading each and every word on the screen took the articulately challenged man an eternity and I soaked up each and every moment of it! Finishing the check list, I took his arm and let him guide his visionless patron to the awaiting Buick.

"Are you sure you don't need some help? Someone to drive you home?" he repeatedly asked. To which I assured him, "I do this all the time."

Feeling my way into the car, I slid my body into the driver's seat with the grace of a sightless swan and buckled up. Pushing on the gas and break one after another, the sedan lurched forward with amazing gumption for such an old girl. "HEY STOP!" screamed the lube man, but it was too late. I slammed on the gas, spun the steering wheel and the tires screamed as I barreled away from that Jiffy Lube and onto amaurotic freedom.

Tropical Storm Lee

Tropical Storm Lee has ravaged the shores of Louisiana as Mother Nature continues her bizarre menstruation cycle this summer. Chaos ridden and draped with washed up seaweed, the relief efforts have begun to clean up Lee's wake. But there is another Lee that strikes fear in the hearts of the innocent, the peaceful office staff and pocket sized pygmies throughout the Rocky Mountain West.

We recently installed a new printer in the office where I pretend to work. The genius tech guy decided that it would best suit the office staff to place the over sized paper producer directly outside of my office door. Poor choice.

As I briskly exited my luxury suite, I always walk quickly and with purpose so that onlookers think I am occupied and unapproachable, my wide set hips clipped the fancy font fabricator and flung the five folder trays through the air. The whole office stopped and starred as I froze mid-mishap.

In my best angry voice I said, "This junk is always getting in my way!" With a sheepish tone that would have swooned Little Bo Peep, Hellewell said, "Sorry, I will have the printer moved." To which I promptly replied, "No, no I was talking about my bum."

Looks like our own Lee tempest has hit the office coast line: Please evacuate the area and avoid airborne articles previous attached to printers.