complaints, disasters, dogs

See you next fall…

Many years ago, when I worked at Busch Gardens in Williamsburg, Virginia, I had a friend who worked on the Rhine River cruise ride. He was a big, strapping guy who sweated profusely and carried his lunches in Igloo coolers. I knew this guy, not just because we worked in the “German” part of Busch Gardens, but also because we were both from Gloucester, Virginia. He was the eldest of a large Irish Catholic family. I think he had eleven brothers and sisters, but I can’t say for sure. ETA: A mutual friend says that Shawn is the eldest of fourteen.

Anyway, this guy, name of Shawn, used to get a huge kick out of me. One time I asked him why he was so amused by my comings and goings. He said it was because I was always hurting myself somehow. And because I could swear a blue streak that would make a sailor blush.

This morning, I’m not so proud to admit that I did both of those things. The sad thing is, this morning’s injuries come almost exactly a week after my last significant injury… significance being a relative thing. I’m not talking about broken bones or even sprains. I’m talking about scraped knees and sore muscles from breaking sudden falls.

Last week’s accident happened when I was about to walk the dogs. It was cloudy and a little rainy. I was preparing to walk the dogs when I decided to check the mailbox. Noyzi has been getting a lot braver lately, so he followed me outside. Suddenly, I had a flashback to about a year ago, when the beagle we tried to adopt escaped the pet taxi driver who had brought him to us. He panicked and took off, as we watched helplessly. Hours later, he ended up getting killed on the Autobahn, which is very close to our house. Watching our would-be family member run to his death was devastating. We had been so looking forward to having him, only to see him take off running before we even got to pet him.

Noyzi runs like a locomotive. I don’t think he wants to run away. He seems to enjoy being a pet. He has his own big bed, doesn’t have to fight over food, and loves to take walks. He also seems to like me a lot, although he’s still afraid of Bill. Still, I knew that if he got spooked, as he occasionally does sometimes, I might be shit out of luck in getting him back. He is really fast! I panicked a bit when he came outside. I made a grab for his collar, but missed. I fell down, having lost my balance, and made another grab for him, which I missed. He quickly hit the deck, peeing submissively in the process. I tore off part of a thumbnail and badly scraped my right knee. I also got a big bruise.

It hurt. Falling down is not as painless when you’re middle aged. I literally saw stars and felt nauseous after I fell. Like, I might have been in danger of fainting from the sharp pain. I yelled a bit, because I was pissed off, humiliated, and hurt.

Healing takes longer, too. That knee is already pretty badly scarred from other spills, including one that happened during the summer of 1991, when I was working at Busch Gardens. That was by far the worst knee scrape I’ve ever had. I had just finished work and was taking my till to the cash control office when I slipped on the pebbly walkway. Because it was dark outside and had just rained, I didn’t realize how badly I was hurt until I went into cash control and handed over the till. I looked down and saw blood streaming from my knee. I asked the teller if she had any paper towels. She got a load of my knee and called the first aid office, who carted me off to the first aid station and patched me up. It took weeks for the wound to heal and I still have a deep scar.

So all last week, my knee has itched, bled, stung, and throbbed. My right thumbnail hurt like a motherfucker, since I broke the nail at the quick. As of today, it doesn’t hurt anymore, since the nail has grown. I’d say that injury, at least, is about recovered. But then I renewed my clutzy woes this morning.

Arran woke up at about 4:30am. He wanted his breakfast, since I didn’t have much of a dinner last night and he got few scraps. I got up, let him and Noyzi out, and fed them. Then I went back upstairs, but noticed that Arran hadn’t followed me. I know this trick. Arran will often stay behind and stealth pee if I don’t watch him. Not wanting to clean up an unnecessary mess, I went back downstairs to get Arran. Somehow, I tripped on a shoe. I remember feeling horrified as my ankle wobbled and I went down on my nice rug.

Mrs. Fletcher and I have something in common.

“FUCK!” I screamed. For the second time in a week, Arran was looking at me with a mixture of concern and fear. The expression on his face was like, “oh dear… she’s fallen and can’t get up!”

Yes, I literally screamed and wailed, in part because I was hurting, but also because I’m angry and frustrated. Because now, not only did I reopen the wound on my right knee and undo a week’s healing, but I also now have a scraped left knee and my left big toe is fucked up. This time the scrape is on the top part of the knee. It’s more of a rug burn, so I don’t think the flesh wound will take as long to recover. However, I also have a big bruise on top of the knee, and walking hurts. Add in the normal pain and stiffness I experience just for being old and fat, and you have someone whose Monday has gotten off completely wrong!

The kicker is, I’m supposed to drive somewhere today. It’s literally been months since I last drove anywhere. Like, it’s been so long, I don’t remember when I was last behind the wheel. It might have been in 2019, it was so long ago. And I have to drive the Volvo, because my car’s tires are low on air and even if I wanted to drive on low tires, I’d need to move Bill’s car anyway. Bill has been trying to find a working air pump at a gas station, but for some reason, the Wiesbaden area is low on functioning air pumps. We’ll probably end up ordering one.

Fortunately, the Volvo practically drives itself, and I only need to go about two or three kilometers. But the reason I have to drive is because I need to drop off a sample of Arran’s shit at the vet’s office. That just seems like a perfect Monday morning chore, doesn’t it? I still need to collect one sample before I go, too… and I’m not sure I can manage our usual walk today. My left knee really hurts. But the sun is out, and the dogs need the exercise. I need it too, but maybe only after I put on knee pads and elbow guards. Shawn would be so proud to see that nothing has changed since the 1990s, except now I’m older, heavier, and even more profane.

I haven’t even had an alcoholic drink since Saturday afternoon, so I can’t even blame this on being drunk. At least I finally finished binge watching Growing Pains.

You’d think I played rugby.
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silliness

What’s something you can say in a restaurant AND during sex?

This morning, I am determined to write something off the grid. I ran across a funny memory today. It was a meme shared last year by The Bitchy Waiter, who writes a funny blog about waiting tables in the United States and has a very active Facebook page. It’s been a long time since I last waited tables, but I remember the experience well. I don’t always agree with The Bitchy Waiter or his other followers, but I do remember waiting tables all too well. As glad as I am that I had the experience, which taught me a lot about fine food, wines, and liquors, and left me with a lot of great friends, I hope I never have to wait tables again. It’s a good skill to have, though. When there isn’t a pandemic going on, restaurant work is usually plentiful and has kept many a person employed and fed.

But anyway, last year, The Bitchy Waiter shared today’s featured photo. I ran across it this morning and it made me laugh. I’m tired of complaining about the usual shit, and since it’s Monday, I thought I’d write something funny for a change. Or, at least I think it’s funny… maybe you don’t.

So… what’s something you can say in a restaurant AND during sex? My first answer was “No thanks. I’m full.”

Some of my friends joined in with their suggestions and I could post them here. I might decide to rip off a few if I can’t come up with (heh heh, I wrote “come”) any other beauts… Hmmm

  • Something smells fishy
  • I’m not eating anything that looks like that
  • Lots of protein in this
  • I’m hungry
  • That tip is not big enough
  • Feed me!
  • Please pass the sausage
  • I’m NOT paying for this!
  • The service is terrible
  • I want seconds!
  • This is too hot!
  • Blow on it!
  • Can I have a refill?
  • Smells yeasty…
  • Where did this come from?
  • That’s an impressive cut of meat!
  • I’ve had enough
  • What’s with all the jelly?
  • Thank you for satisfying my hunger
  • Service with a smile!
  • Can I have this on the side?
  • I’m a breast man
  • The legs are to die for!
  • Brown sugar tastes so good.
  • Give me some sugar.
  • Tender and juicy!
  • It’s so meaty
  • Creamy and dreamy
  • Succulent… falling off the bone
  • It’s burning!

I guess thirty is enough. I could probably come up with a lot more, but that seems like a waste of time. Bill went in to work today, so I think I’ll do some musical exploration. Maybe I’ll even make a video, although I’m not sure what I’d do. I’m not feeling particularly inspired today. Usually, when I go as far as making a video, I have something in mind that I want to try. Not so this morning… at least not yet.

Hope everyone has a good Monday with as little interpersonal drama as possible. I noticed when I was looking at this post that someone who responded to it last year has blocked me… probably because one of her friends recently attacked me on Facebook and I decided not to be “Facebook friends” with her anymore. I guess I don’t mind being blocked by her, since we didn’t really know each other, and she seems pretty immature, anyway. I mean, I’m probably old enough to be her mother, and I’m not from Utah or even an ex Mormon. I’m pretty sure we found each other on RfM, and I’ve found that I don’t mesh with a lot of people I “meet” there. So it’s just as well.

Maybe the solution to my current social media dilemma is to do a massive “friend” purge. I hate to do that, since I know some people’s feelings get hurt. But I really am finding that I have less time and patience for stupidity, yet deleting Facebook is a bit impractical, since so many people use it and ditching it would make some things more complicated. For instance, the introductions and discussions about the dog we’re hoping to soon bring into our home were done entirely through Facebook. He’s still in Kosovo right now. If I ditch Facebook, then it’s harder to get in touch with the people arranging the adoption.

Also, I run a local wine group that I’m not quite ready to give up yet… especially since we officially got word that we’re going to be staying in Germany for a bit longer. I do need to do something, though. I’m sure some people think I need to develop a thicker skin, but my skin is plenty thick, and getting thicker thanks to all the isolation and lack of exercise and exploration. So we’ll see what happens.

Time to play the guitar and work on my quest to be able to change chords without a one second break.

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