My sister, "Disorderly" made a brave career move recently. She left a high stress, high salaried position in the medical field, and took intensive accelerated training to do something much more hands-on in the same field. And something much less lucrative. But apparently more fulfilling and probably part-time. I bet they had her at "part-time."

So, she graduated tonight. For two weeks she has reminded me of this event and instructed me to tell no one since she didn't want to "make a big deal out of it." So secretive was this celebration that she didn't inform me until last night where the whole thing was taking place. She left the info on the voice mail of my cell phone.

Yes, only my sister would "graduate" in a bar.

After pulling into the dirt driveway and dodging several large craters disguised as potholes and a couple of guys passed out face down in the mud, I saw a very tall woman with red hair down to her waist sitting on a bench outside the bar. I figured it was one of my sister's hoochie mama classmates until I realized it was, in fact, my sister.

I don't know what it is about this class that attracted a crowd like this - but the whole group looked ready to perform triage at Woodstock. Long, long hair, gauzy clothes, lots of jewelry and now certificates giving them permission to perform certain medical procedures on unsuspecting and hopefully drug induced victims. Oh did I mention there was drinking tonight? When I left Sis she was doing Tequila shots.

But - hey. She took four courses simultaneously to finish the program in the shortest amount of time and she got 90% averages overall. That's nothing to scoff at, even if you still can't resist scoffing at the love beads and musk oil. I was (am) pretty darn proud of her, and anyone who reinvents themselves, even if they are reinventing themselves into Carly Simon.

And I, lovemonkey snob extraordinaire, was thrilled to suck down a Coors Light in her honor.

And to give the roast pig a spin or two.

lovemonkey wishes you peace, love and mescaline

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