Monday, April 18, 2011

The Ribs of An Old Cat

My family went to Tahoe for a week with a whirlwind side-trip to Disneyland, which is why I haven't been writing. It was very fun, but it made me quite tired. Skiing was perfect on two days and not as nice on a third. I got to see my kids have a ton of fun and that is the best kind of fun that I ever have.

Today has been the Catch Up Day, full of finding all the lost things and putting them on the calendar, cleaning like I haven't done a thing in two weeks, and there have been Oreos going into my tummy. Yummy Oreos.  Double Stuff. Stuff I need to resist but can't. I don't buy it, mind you, but I help make it go away. To my middle. (Heavy sigh.)

I think I broke a rib, too. For real, this time, and not just pulling a muscle. There is an actual spot where the pain is the most intense, not just a general area of pain like before. I was on the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland and I was being bounced around like I was going to get whiplash for sure and when I got off the ride, I had pain in my back and side. I like to complain about pain more than the next guy, I'm sure, but I tried to be a stoic and ignore it as best I could. When I got in the car, however, for the long ride home, I poked my fingers around my rib cage to figure out what exactly was hurting.

When my finger hit the Spot of Pain, it was so intensely sharp that the gruesome scene in Inglorious Basterds came to mind when Brad Pitt's character stuck his finger in the bullet wound of that woman's leg. Ouch!

All I can wonder is how long it's going to take to stop hurting. (10-days, Mr. Anonymous?) I like to remember back to my Army days when I was in the best shape of my life. I would love to have the boundless energy and pain-free feeling again. I had the body of a kitten and once did 83 push ups for a PT test. I felt like I could do anything and I would give almost anything to feel like that again. To have that body again. To be able to eat all the Oreos I want without them hanging around like an unwanted party guest who just won't leave. That's life, I guess. There are quite a few things I wouldn't trade to stay exactly where I am, right at this moment, flaws and all. With age comes wisdom, even if it comes with a certain amount of physical deterioration.

I'll take it. I'm happy. Rib pain and all.

Monday, April 04, 2011

Greasy, Grimy, Gopher Guts

I wish I would write more. I hate pulling up my blog to check my favorite links for things to read and seeing how lazy I am. Sometimes I'm even too lazy to read, like today. It's funny, though, on an episode of The Office, which I watch less and less and I'm quite behind, and I don't like nearly as much in the later seasons as is always the case, BJ Novak's character says that blogs are "out."

Is that true? I know that skirt lengths are getting longer, but that's about as current as I get. I know that I like reading blogs more than I like watching TV.

I'm sick, though, and even for a current post, I'm really too out of it to write much. But isn't that the way it goes? I tell you what, though. Please help me out by posting your ideas or knowledge of what should go in the following poem:

Great green globs of greasy, grimy, gopher guts,
mutilated monkey feet,
chopped up baby parakeet,
blah blah blah blah
rolling down my dirty street,
and I forgot my spoon!

Fill in the answer or what you think the answer to the blahs are and you will solve the mystery of the song that I have running through my head since I saw all the worms on my dog-walk-hike that I never wrote about.