Don’t Stress, Call Bess!

I was thinking about what to write today, and in the back of my mind swirled all the things I have to get done this week, and I thought, “Boy, do I feel stressed,” and probably because I just looked at my last blentry’s title, Don’t Whine, Drink Wine, the first thing that popped into my head was, “Don’t Stress, Call Bess!” So that’s the title of this blentry.

As it happens, my late paternal grandmother’s name was Bess, short for Mary Elizabeth. While I can no longer call her up (I mean on the phone; I don’t mean I can no longer recall her), I do think of her when I say “Don’t Stress, Call Bess,” and how even when she was in her 60s and not thin, according to my mother she would dangle her legs over the arm of a chair and say, “Well, isn’t this the best looking leg y’all have ever seen?” And thinking of that does kind of reduce my stress, because it forces me to look at the big picture of Life, and family, and fun, and love. And if she could be chubby and old and still admire herself, that was something good.

P.S. My dad always used to say, “Don’t fuss, call Gus! He’ll fuss for all of us!” (For your use, “fuss” can be replaced with “cuss” where applicable).

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