Ch 7 Wednesday Sly corrects Doris from afar about whether some doctor is an obstetrician or a gynecologist, a topic that Sly knows far better than Doris, and Doris and I bond over our mutual eye-rolling at Sly

Doris and I are watching a cooking show on TV and talking about food. There is nothing controversial about food, is there? It’s safe.

Doris: When I was a little girl, my mother would make her favorite foods from Georgia, where she grew up.

Me: I love Southern cooking. I love collards and mustard greens and fried green tomatoes and macaroni and cheese. What did she make?

Doris: All of that. Our relatives from Georgia would bring greens for her when they visited.

A story appears on the TV about Oklahoma.

Doris: Isn’t that where the senator who is a doctor – an OB? – is from?

Me: Coburn?

Doris: Yes.

Sly yells from his office:  He’s a gynecologist!

I open my mouth and then shut it. Clearly, Sly is far better qualified than Doris and I, a mere woman, to discuss the medical specialty of a physician who treats issues of the female reproductive system. But you know I am so, so tempted to yell, “He’s BOTH, Sly! He’s BOTH!”

Doris and I look at each other and smirk.

We are bonding! We are bonding over a shared experience. Finally.