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I think his profusion of sweat is indicative of a fit body. When I used to jog and exercise regularly, I used to sweat easily. It's just sign of an efficient "machine."

Oh, yeah I agree. I wasn't criticizing the president for sweating, I was just commenting on the fact. It's very humid there.

I posted this vanity, self-indulgent post in the canteen, but it does somewhat relate to some of our earlier discussions about being a packrat and the more recent "efficient machine" stuff. So, I thought some of you might like this mini-essay from my (still unpublished) book, Rhymes and Reasons: Coping with Chronic Illness, SEX, and Other Stuff

Life’s Bumps and Bandaids

My computer monitor has a Winnie the Pooh Band-Aid on it.

No. The monitor isn’t broken. But I am.

The Band-Aid is there to remind me that although things may not always go as well as I hope, I do have people who care about me. Therefore, somehow I’ll find my best path.

After spending a day shopping with my daughter Lara, my grandson Charlie, and my granddaughter Taylor, I moved items from the trunk of Lara’s car to mine and then carried a few of the things into my daughter’s house. Lara went out to the car to bring in the rest of the stuff while I watched the kids.

By that point, every muscle in my body was complaining. The spasms in my lower back were awful. I live with pain. I’ve learned how to cope. But sometimes, I’m hit with one that is like an in-your-face dose of reality. One added to the others that then makes them all difficult to bear. I tried hard not to, but I found myself crying. I wait until I’m home alone for that crap. Tears rolled down my face. I couldn’t mask them. They were there. When she got back in the house, Lara asked what was wrong. I replied, “I just hurt. Give me a minute.” I grabbed a tissue and started my deep breathing in hopes the spasms would subside.

While I did so, three and a half year old Taylor came up to me, and without saying a word, put one of her treasured Winnie the Pooh Band-Aids on my left hand. And then we hugged.

Later that night, I couldn’t bring myself to throw the Band-Aid away. It’s one of the most precious things I own now. And it’s here in front of me ... where I can see it as I work. It’s my reminder that there is immeasurable value to life.

Copyright © 1998-2003 Pamela Rice Hahn

My granddaughter will soon be 8, but I still have the bandaid. ;)