Direct Hit
OK, so I have not yet acquired a photo of Slag’s new goatee. But I’m working on it. I’m holding off because he got a REALLY bad (i.e. too short) haircut a couple of weeks ago and I’ve been waiting for it to grow out a little first. He currently looks like he has a hair piece sitting on top of a military buzz cut. Very unflattering. Definitely does not agree with his bone structure. Turns out that Slag has a cowlick that starts at his left temple and curves around to the back of his head, completely circumnavigating the left side of his skull. How could I have spent the last twelve years with the man and not know that?? I am so uninformed.
What else has been going on? Nothing worth writing at length about, so here are a few short vignettes.
- Slag’s back continues to improve. He’s doing physical therapy, tending his tomato plants. He even successfully performed the duties of groomsman in a recent wedding. The best thing is that he starting cooking again. We don’t have to live on Chinese take-out or scrambled eggs with a side of microwaved canned peas anymore. Hooray for us!
- It is so fricking HOT here, I want to die. It’s not even officially summer yet and we’re already hitting 100 degrees on a daily basis! I sustained 2nd degree burns just from touching the steering wheel in my car yesterday. I don’t have the genetics for this. I’m so tired of sweating.
- I’m STILL driving around with hail dents in my car. Since March. I was scheduled for body work around the end of May, but the shop called and asked if they could put me off until the end of June because they’re so busy with all the other hail-damaged cars. OK, fine. The car’s driveable. I’m not too good to drive around in a dented car for a little while. But then, last week, we got yet another hail storm. This time the hail wasn’t big enough to dent anything at our house, but at the body shop, it was big enough to dent all the cars on their lot. So now they have to fix all those cars again and could they please reschedule me for the last Monday in July? Agh. I know it’s not their fault, but crap. CRAP! I like their work enough to wait though, so it’s another month of waiting. At least.
- Pre-surgery, Slag and I were snugglers. (Or I should say, we liked to snuggle on the couch for a few minutes until I got too hot and demanded that he GET AWAY FROM ME before I died of heat stroke.) For the first month or so after surgery we didn’t even try. Everything was way too fragile. Since then, we’ve done a little test-snuggling. I try to be very careful manuvering around him. Can’t put too much weight there. No twisting. No sudden moves. That sort of thing. All was going well until last week, when I tried to snuggle him after ingesting a very large strawberry margarita. Somehow, and I’m not sure exactly how it happened so we can’t be sure it was totally my fault,…I knee’d him squarely in the nuts. It was a direct hit. Couldn’t have done any better if I were defending myself from a mugger/rapist.
So.
He went fetal on me, and I started freaking out a little, because the fetal position is not good for his back right now. “Omigod! What happened? Are you OK?? What can I do??” After about 5 minutes he started trying to talk through his clenched teeth, saying things like “It’s OK” and “Don’t worry. It’s not that bad” in between gasping breaths. And I wanted to believe him, but the fact remained that I could actually SEE him, and it was obvious he was fibbing when he said it wasn’t that bad. I sat and watched him for another ten minutes or so, hoping that he wouldn’t go into cardiac arrest or break a vertebra loose. He finally got up and hobbled to the bathroom, which I took as a good sign, but it turns out he only got up because he thought he was going to barf on the living room floor. I’d say it took another couple of hours before all the muscles in his face relaxed. He ultimately survived, but I was banished to the other side of the sofa for the rest of the evening. Totally unfair. It’s not like I did it on purpose or anything.
What else has been going on? Nothing worth writing at length about, so here are a few short vignettes.
- Slag’s back continues to improve. He’s doing physical therapy, tending his tomato plants. He even successfully performed the duties of groomsman in a recent wedding. The best thing is that he starting cooking again. We don’t have to live on Chinese take-out or scrambled eggs with a side of microwaved canned peas anymore. Hooray for us!
- It is so fricking HOT here, I want to die. It’s not even officially summer yet and we’re already hitting 100 degrees on a daily basis! I sustained 2nd degree burns just from touching the steering wheel in my car yesterday. I don’t have the genetics for this. I’m so tired of sweating.
- I’m STILL driving around with hail dents in my car. Since March. I was scheduled for body work around the end of May, but the shop called and asked if they could put me off until the end of June because they’re so busy with all the other hail-damaged cars. OK, fine. The car’s driveable. I’m not too good to drive around in a dented car for a little while. But then, last week, we got yet another hail storm. This time the hail wasn’t big enough to dent anything at our house, but at the body shop, it was big enough to dent all the cars on their lot. So now they have to fix all those cars again and could they please reschedule me for the last Monday in July? Agh. I know it’s not their fault, but crap. CRAP! I like their work enough to wait though, so it’s another month of waiting. At least.
- Pre-surgery, Slag and I were snugglers. (Or I should say, we liked to snuggle on the couch for a few minutes until I got too hot and demanded that he GET AWAY FROM ME before I died of heat stroke.) For the first month or so after surgery we didn’t even try. Everything was way too fragile. Since then, we’ve done a little test-snuggling. I try to be very careful manuvering around him. Can’t put too much weight there. No twisting. No sudden moves. That sort of thing. All was going well until last week, when I tried to snuggle him after ingesting a very large strawberry margarita. Somehow, and I’m not sure exactly how it happened so we can’t be sure it was totally my fault,…I knee’d him squarely in the nuts. It was a direct hit. Couldn’t have done any better if I were defending myself from a mugger/rapist.
So.
He went fetal on me, and I started freaking out a little, because the fetal position is not good for his back right now. “Omigod! What happened? Are you OK?? What can I do??” After about 5 minutes he started trying to talk through his clenched teeth, saying things like “It’s OK” and “Don’t worry. It’s not that bad” in between gasping breaths. And I wanted to believe him, but the fact remained that I could actually SEE him, and it was obvious he was fibbing when he said it wasn’t that bad. I sat and watched him for another ten minutes or so, hoping that he wouldn’t go into cardiac arrest or break a vertebra loose. He finally got up and hobbled to the bathroom, which I took as a good sign, but it turns out he only got up because he thought he was going to barf on the living room floor. I’d say it took another couple of hours before all the muscles in his face relaxed. He ultimately survived, but I was banished to the other side of the sofa for the rest of the evening. Totally unfair. It’s not like I did it on purpose or anything.
posted by Jill at 6:19 PM
4 Comments:
Wow! your precision is astounding!!! The only time I got a direct hit was when I was about 6 or 7 and my brother was walking beside me annoying the hell out of me and I swung out. Direct hit. I had no idea I could do that to a guy.
Oh, and send some of that heat up this way. It's COLD here, rarely even gets into the 70s.
I am sorry to say this but the worst thing I read in this post was micro-waved canned peas. Stay the hell away from Slag hun I don't want you to all starve before he heals! hehehehe :o)
that story is the greatest thing ever. 10 points to gryffendor for the attack and 20 to ravenclaw for absorbing the blow.
it's a valid points system.
AND I'M SURE YOU WERE VERY HOT, so you shouldn't have been held responsible.
But maybe redirecting his pain sensors to that region gave his back a break. Right?
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