Monday, November 8, 2010

Gal Friday

Most of us are familiar with the term gal Friday.  According to various sources I referenced,  it seems the best overall description is a female who is an efficient and faithful assistant.  My gal Friday is definitely much more than that, but we won't go there.  Benay is my gal Friday and every other day of the week.  She is also the driving force behind just about everything I do.  Being bound to a wheelchair, regardless how powerful or multi-gadgeted, is no picnic and it's easy to become depressed or at least unmotivated.  My gal Friday refuses to allow me to become lethargic concerning mental activities or complacent about my physical condition.  However, my gal Friday has a drug problem.  Last week she "drug" me to occupational therapy; she "drug" me to physical therapy; she "drug" me to a Grand Prix equestrian event as well as to about 50 restaurants.  I'm not saying we eat out too much, but I'm getting offers to become a food critic.

With the exception of my two fantastic daughters, my gal Friday is my biggest fan.  Now this can be a good or bad thing.  The good part is pretty obvious, but the opposite is not so evident to the unknowing onlooker.  Believing I can accomplish amazing feats, my gal Friday urges my involvement in things in which I have no reason to become involved.  Many times the reasons are characteristics I'm lacking in like talent, bravery, knowledge and brains, but onward and upward she pushes.  I have to admit, because of her overrated confidence in me and her persistence, I have achieved a few things I didn't think possible, but not doing her bidding is not a pleasant thing to witness.  You see if I don't comply with her wishes, she buckles me to my power chair, ties it to the back of my ramp van and drives around the neighborhood honking the horn.  This actually isn't so bad because the neighborhood speed limit is only 20 mph.  The only time I get nervous is when my chair swings into the oncoming lane.  The speed bumps are a little hard to take too.  However, when I really screw up, she leaves the neighborhood and drives onto a main road at about 65 mph.  That's when things get a little dicey.  Bugs in my teeth are my least problem.

My gal Friday insisted I take up writing.  Now you can understand why my rigid digits hit the keyboard with a vengeance.  I soon learned more than I ever wanted to know about the publishing business.  Good writing is still the top priority to becoming a published author, but good luck ranks a close second.  Literary agents won't touch any genre they don't have an editor interested in.  Selling an editor is how they make a living.  It's pure luck to catch an agent who's looking for your type manuscript at the particular time you plead your case and if so, he has hundreds to choose from.  Scared not to, I hunt and peck on.  Who knows with my gal Friday's not so delicate prompting, maybe someday I'll find that agent.  I figure I've got about the same odds as hitting the lottery.

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