Blues apprentice? You decide. This is how it went down:

“Please, God, not a blue one.”

Arms crossed against icy wind—and what I was about to do—I braved the La-Z-Boy store.

“And how may we help you today?” the genteel salesman asked, ignoring my body language.

I did not gnash my teeth. Or mention a long-held personal vow: no recliners. Ever.

Having survived 5 bypasses, Dreamer required safe, adjustable, maximized comfort. I wanted him to have every last thing he needed to heal. As long as it wasn’t blue.

I cleared my throat. Swallowing pride felt like raveled twine was stuck to my tongue and tonsils.

“I need a recliner. For a big guy.” He nodded, starting to turn. “Today,” I added.

His tilted his head. “That sounds important. Follow me.”

The only Big Man Recliner in stock was … wait for it … blue. [Read more…]