Vague Ramblings

I hate to be outgeeked, but since I'm not a full fledged card carrying member I really shouldn't try. (I'm sort of a fence rider....) But anyway:

I was riding back from lunch with some of the guys on my team and they were talking about back in the old days of building their own printers and protocol converters (pre TCPIP days etc.) And how they used to do all their programs on punch card readers, and how they spent Saturday nights in the computer labs in college....blah blah blah...etc and so on...

Out of sheer frustration all I could think of was the time I stuck a fork in the light socket....

(Hey! I traded out doing one guy's biology homework if he would do my data processing homework in the computer lab. I swear the geeks would leave me be for 30 minutes laughing at the dumb sorority girl who couldn't find the power button to the computer. It made me feel like tweety bird trapped at a cat convention, can you blame me for the trade out?)

But Anyway. (I supposed that explains a lot)

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Gizmo fell out of bed early Saturday a.m. and pulled her left shoulder muscles out of whack. Oh can she milk it for all. its. worth. Now, at the risk of being called a bad mom, I didn't take her to the doctor until today. My kids can make a paper cut into a knifing attempt by Mark Twain. Complete with "...and he got away without a police report...." So I'm not known for rushing to the hospital. She's fine, says the doctor, just give her motrin and leave it alone a couple more days.

We're a pretty durable bunch in this gene pool.

Kinda reminds me of the time I rode a horse with a bad reputation on my mother-in-law's farm. "Now don't take him to the upper pasture and run..." stated my father-in-law matter-of-factly. Whatever says I. I can ride him.

So I take the perilous pony out and everything is going fine, 'cept I let my guard down on the upper pasture.

NOT a GOOD IDEA.

Next thing you know we're going, going, going. Then he's NOT going.

And I still AM.

Can you spell "Swan dive"????

Well, I ended up getting bucked off head over heels and landed my full weight on my right shoulder. My guardian angel musta been working overtime, because I came within a couple of inches of landing straight on top of my head, and I was NoT wearing a Helmet. Now, being the resilient gal I am I sort of popped up off the ground and I remember my husband RUNNING up the hill screaming "OMG are you Okay???"

"NO. I'm going to Pass out"

And I did. PLUNK.

When I came to about five minutes later I swore I broke my collarbone (and for some reason, I REALLY had to go to the bathroom...TMI, but it IS true....) After all, I'm a pretty solid girl and I took a very nasty fall and my shoulder REALLY really REALLY really HURT. My husband looked at me (the hopeless romantic he is) and said "I'm not taking you to the hospital, I'm not sitting around the emergency room I might CATCH something"

>o|

You know he made me WAIT until the next day to go to the doctor????

Well, as luck would have it they xrayed my shoulder. No break. No twist. No fracture.
Geez, I could have at least had a small fracture or something for my trouble. The bruise wasn't even much of a trophy.

Apparantly, you can bruise just the bone itself...

Now, it might not have been much, but to this day I can STILL tell you when the barometric pressure is changing.

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In the meantime...

Firstborn, who is full tilt boogie heading into puberty, is having so many mood swings I'm getting emotional whiplash. I'm not ever sure who I'm talking too: Sir Morose, The Giddy Puppy, The Third Parent, Mr.Hideaway... Well, Mr Morose visited juuuust as we were getting him ready for cotillion Sunday afternoon. I'd rather try to pull a large tree out of the backyard with my bare hands before having to deal with this facet of the hormonal horrors known as THIRTEEN. He wants to wear his dress pants around his fanny, the tie doesn't work, he DID? comb his hair... So my husband grabbed him by the ear and did his hair as I added to his humiliation by fixing his shirt in his pants.... I have never heard such whining (his voice is cracking too which to his chagrin tends to give me the giggles - but I try not to have them in front of him I SWEAR.) Tears, pout, huff. Tears, pout, huff. Hell, he makes the Bridezillas on TV look downright docile.

So we ended up being 15 minutes late. Not a good thing when after all you are going to Manners class...

There I was dropping off my pouting, steaming, hunk of hormones off at the club door, taking solice in the fact that there were SIX other parents dropping off their equally pouting humiliated male tweens at the door too!!! AH, Misery loves company.

When I picked him up, he was absolutely the polar opposite.

My neck is sore.