Wednesday, January 30, 2013

So What Happened Was...

I always knew taking notes was boring.  I just didn't know it had the ability to actually put body parts to sleep.

A couple of weeks ago, our charity had a Board Meeting.  (No, not Bored Meeting).  The members seem to feel most comfortable in Hubby's archery shop, which is located on our property, so meetings usually occur there after hours.  It's great for the Guys, a.k.a. Board Members, as they sit on stools at the counter, usually snacking on whatever someone has brought.  Hubby stays seated on his "work stool" behind the counter.  It's one of those tall architect stools with a back on it which swivels.  This allows him to easily go from working at the counter to swinging around to grab necessary parts off the wall behind him.

For me, however, meetings mean bringing in my laptop, folders filled with agendas and other pertinent information.  If  you saw me crossing the backyard, you'd wonder what kind of strange safari I was embarking on.  Between the laptop briefcase draped over one shoulder, the metal stand which does not fold down, and occasionally snacks for the Board, I look like the world's shortest porter.

At least one of the Guys usually sees my impending arrival and opens the door.  Occasionally one of them will unburden me of the laptop stand...unless food is involved and it will miraculously disappear first.  I then take my place behind the counter, just  behind and to the right of where Hubby's stool sits.  That position allowed me to see everyone, plus have access to plug in the laptop for l-o-n-g meetings.   It became comical when we realized I was sitting on a wooden stool about two and a half feet high, while everyone else is sitting at bar stool height.  I joked that if they looked down on me, I would quit.  They smiled.  We're all volunteers.  And they had access to the door.

Usually things proceed without incident.  Until a couple of weeks ago.

I have to confess, right now, that I don't think I'll ever sit like an adult when it comes to chairs.  Or stools.  I tend to tuck one leg under me in chairs, or wrap my leg around the leg of a stool.  It's hard to get comfortable when the ratio of airspace to leg above ground is figured in for short me.  Anyway, I didn't realize how long I'd been sitting with leg woven around stool leg until I stood up to hand a page of information to Hubby.

The irony is that, because the shop is so crowded with stuff, I stood up very carefully, so as not to bump into or knock anything over.

Unfortunately, that didn't extend to me.

Rising up, I put all my weight on my left foot, which was the direction I was headed in.  Sadly, that foot was asleep.  I planted it firmly on top of the leg of my laptop stand and thus began the whitest hip hop dancing ever seen.  Sort of like the Hokey Pokey from hell.  (Google it, my non-American friends).

I put my left foot down and started dipping to the left.  

No problem, my brain countered calmly.  Use your right foot.  

And I did.  I put it down squarely on the foot of the bow press stand and felt my ankle torque.

That's okay, my brain offered jovially, try the left foot again.  It's probably awake now.

I put my tingly left foot down and landed on the OTHER bow press stand.  My body was now at a very strange angle, leaning further to the left than I knew someone standing up could get.

Your head!  Your head!  My brain screamed as my right foot tried again. Don't let your head hit this concrete floor or you are toast!

Right foot down...on something that wasn't floor.  At this point I didn't have much time before I would meet the concrete floor.

The chair!  My brain screeched.  Grab the back of Hubby's chair before the floor grabs you.

Chair.  Right.  In almost slow motion I watched my left hand reach out in hopes of snagging the back of the chair in time.  By now the Guys, eyes like saucers as they stared, were calling my name.  As if that would stop my fall.

Almost there, I thought, my fingers stretching for the chair as I ignored the Guys.   Grab chair.   Head no hit floor.  Safe.

It is truly amazing how the brain turns real time danger into a slow motion movie.  To me, each step took forever as the floor loomed closer.  I even remember thinking, "Is this EVER going to end?!"  I'm sure to those watching, it was a fast paced jig, complete with fly-like-a-spastic-chicken arm flapping. 

Just as my fingertips grazed the chair, Hubby spun around to see what the Guys were talking about.

Bye bye chair.  Hello floor, I thought with a sigh, my body tipping even more to the left. Won't be long now and I'll be one with the floor.  And brain damaged. 

Without a word, just before I passed the point of no return, Hubby's arm shot out and grabbed me around the waist.

Suddenly, I was upright.  Blushing furiously, which is quite a feat for someone with all the blood on one side of her head, but embarrassed nonetheless.  All was put back into jovial perspective when Hubby looked at me and said with a wry smile, "What are you doing?"

"Taking notes is boring," I replied as everyone laughed in relief.  The best part was that Hubby kept his arm around my waist, as if me standing right there to watch him read was a necessity.  It's at times like that you're glad you married your best friend.  In five minutes, the floor show over, we completed the meeting.

The fact I woke up the next morning feeling as if I'd been drawn and quartered, with particular zeal on the left side of my body, really was enough. Three days later, I couldn't find anyone at work to aid me with putting out chairs for a meeting.  Not simple metal folding chairs, but heavily padded CHAIRS which stack.  You can see where this is going.  The stack was too high for a short woman to handle but I had an event occurring in less than 10 minutes and the room had to be set up.  I'm use to doing things myself.  And I was almost done when I got to the last stack, a little higher than the rest.  I grabbed the top chair, which was at an awkward angle.  It stuck.  So I pulled.  With enthusiasm.

Which is how I pinched a nerve in my shoulder which has kept me from sleeping well, typing or doing any type of hip hop dance which might require me to go left.

In time, it'll heal. Right now I'm slow, slightly grumpy and have the occasional lightning bolt shoot from my left shoulder down my arm and out my left pinkie, all pins and needles in a hit-my-funny-bone-and-it's-not-funny move.  I've also developed an allergy to certain chairs at work, which are now moved by someone else.  

At least I own a brand new heating pad.  And I know I have a Hubby who has my back.  Literally.

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Oh I'm Here...Just Quietly

Been doing more reading than writing lately as I pinched a nerve in my shoulder and it's made typing more than painful. As soon as I can type more than a paragraph I'll share the delightful saga of how I was so stupid...or unlucky...or whatever term won't make me seem like a moron.  

In the meantime, more work with the soldiers has been done.  How can you not feel good when looking at a face like this?  And how can you not want to slap politicians who think war is a good idea when you find out this kid was a mere 19 when injured and had to leave the Army due to medical reasons?

Instead, I focus on that face.  How could you NOT want to help him out?

With apologies to his Mom, who was so thrilled that her son had received a bow she exclaimed on Facebook, "He even made the cover of their magazine!"

Um.   We don't have a magazine.  In fact if you look, the magazine doesn't really have a title.

So I had to go back and add a disclaimer that it was merely a photo editing option on my new camera.  But hey, it's still HER SON, right?

Thursday, January 17, 2013

Friday 55

Cook up a story of 55 words and share it with the G-man.  Sharing...it's like icing on the cake. 


She had waited years to write this story.
She read.  
Learned about other cultures.
Honed a sense of humor necessary to survive at work.
Met new people…even if they were “invisible",
they traveled the same cyber highway.

And finally,
At long last she was able to yell,
“Hey G-Man!
Guess who turned 55 this week?!”

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

New Toy

For my birthday, Hubby got me a new camera.  It's not just a camera, it has so many "extras" it may take me until my next birthday to figure them all out!  Here's a sample: a "frame" where you center your photo, snap and they are combined!

Sometimes modern technology is a good thing. :) Click for larger images.

"Bou Moon"   
(Sing it Map!)



Front porch chimes.
 
 

Front porch pansies.
 
 

Bou T.V.
Politicians must've been close by.



Hey Chef, this is THE Pecan Tree out front.
Why the seashells?  
At one time, my homestead was under the ocean!

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Goodbye Google+

Dear Google +

I'm truly sorry to do this to you, but sadly, you didn't live up to my expectations.  That happens a lot in today's world.  My expectations seem to be higher than average.  Must be those morals and stuff I cling to. Means I'll never have a career as a politician.  You're a great place to visit, but since I'm not a photographer, starving artist, Tech Geek or actor, you're just not the place I need to hang out.

So my friends here in Blogger world, I'll be here, on our playground.  In a world of silly....and hope. 

Sunday, January 13, 2013

Really?

I have often laughed about the dumbing down of life in general....where surveys which once used words to gain your opinion now use smiley or frowny faces.  But in an age where we spend so much time dealing with "faceless" people, the most dehumanizing moment of all is those stupid codes that make you "prove" you're a real person.  You know, type in the squished up letters and/or numbers to prove you're not a robot about to send spam.  I don't mind actually proving I have a pulse, but the manner in which these little gems are formed is becoming ridiculous at best.

First there were letters.  A jumble of random letters which occasionally spelled out something funny. Then a number was added.  Bored with this, the powers that be turned to letters, mixing capitals with lower case, with a number thrown in the mix.  When the numbers started to slide together, as if melting or going on a rollercoaster ride, I started to get a bit annoyed.  I shouldn't have to turn my head at an angle to figure out if that squiggle is a letter or a number just to prove I'm real.  At that point I want to type in, "I'm real annoyed right now!"

Yesterday, I hit my limit.  Yesterday, a site made me do math. 

Really.

After completing some bit of paperwork I was asked to do the following to prove I was human.
What is One + 5

Really?

Makes you almost want to deal with real people just so they can see the expression on your face.

Have a good week.  No secret password needed.

Thursday, January 10, 2013

Friday 55

It's a good thing we get to type these 55 word stories...just so the G-man can read them easily,of course. Don't forget to share yours.



“Aw, that’s cute.  Your kid’s work?” Dean asked, looking at the paper.

“What?”  Jim  replied, confused.

“This,”  Dean responded,  pointing at the black swirls.   
“Looks like those practice lines 
teachers made us do when we learned cursive.”

"Well, someone needs more practice," Jim grinned.
"A lot more. 
Because that's the next signature for our currency."
 


Oh, I kid you not. 
This is the REAL signature for Jack Lew, 
the next U.S. Treasurer. 
It supposedly reads "Jacob J. Lew"
Makes me wonder if Looney Tunes is in charge 
of the American government.

Saturday, January 5, 2013

Service with a....Giggle

You know those messages you receive if you order something online?  Dull.  Boring.  Just the facts, ma'am.  

"Your order of XYZ has been shipped and should reach you in the near future.  Please shop with us again."

And then they hope you get your package and they never hear from you again, unless you have more money to spend.

I recently ordered a gift for a family member and the "Your order has been shipped" message was so funny I had to share it with you.  This is the e-mail, verbatim.  I dare you not to smile.



Your CDs have been gently taken from our CD Baby shelves with sterilized contamination-free gloves 
and placed onto a satin pillow.
A team of 50 employees inspected your CDs and polished them 
to make sure they were in the best possible condition before mailing. Our world-renowned packing specialist lit a local artisan candle and a hush fell over the crowd as he put your CDs into the
 finest gold-lined box that money can buy.
We all had a wonderful celebration afterwards 
and the whole party marched down the street to the post office 
where the entire town of Portland waved "Bon Voyage!" to your package, on its way to you, in our private CD Baby jet on this day, January 3, 2013.
We hope you had a wonderful time shopping at CD Baby. 
In commemoration, we have placed your picture on our wall as "Customer of the Year." 
We're all exhausted but can't wait for you to come back.

Thank you, thank you, thank you!
Sigh...

We miss you already.
 We'll be right here, patiently awaiting your return.

Thursday, January 3, 2013

Friday 55

The only resolution I even attempt is to write the G-man a 55 word story each Friday.  Why?  Because odds are I can actually keep that one.

He’d grown tired of the noise.
The last minute shoppers.
Late customers who showed up at dinner time
while he was trying to head out the door.

He’d found the joy of Christmas in two places.

The red glow of retreating taillights.

And a nap with his new toy,
which doubled as a nose warmer.

 Well, he IS the Security Guard in Hubby's shop.
When he's not taking one of his 10 naps.
 

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Go Team Go!

I'm the first to admit I don't watch much sports any more.  Well, it's all because a college team broke my heart.  I was 12, I was/am SHORT and I was in love with Basketball.  I played it with gusto, no matter how many times the boy in my neighborhood ran me into the garage wall, claiming he was trying to toughen me up and improve my game.   My favorite college team, USC, the REAL USC, as in University of South Carolina, had the best basketball team around that year.  I watched Carolina ballgames on t.v. with my Dad and dreamed of going to USC, maybe even attending Basketball games.

By the time I got there, they weren't just bad, they stunk.

Sigh.

So now I only watch the annual football (American version, gentlemen) rivalry between USC and Clemson so I can participate in the conversation the next day.  Since my temporary office is located in the Athletic Dept., it's a must.  It's funny...my co-workers who pull so hard for USC didn't even go there  In fact, I'm the only one with a USC diploma.

Today, USC made it to the Outback Bowl against Michigan, one of the top 10 teams, which is a big deal if you're into this stuff.

And we just WON in a breath taking, back and forth, edge of your seat game.  Which is good since it took three and a half hours to play.  As a girl person I do wonder: exactly how hard do you have to hit a guy to send his helmet sailing off and down the field?!

So if you dine at an Outback Steakhouse tomorrow, Jan. 2nd, a free blooming onion can be yours...because Carolina won.  (Would've been coconut shrimp if Michigan was the victor).

Ah the irony that little shrimpy me pulled for a team which has a Gamecock for a mascot... beat the mighty Wolverines.

Who says chickens aren't tough?