ammogirl

Okay, inserting pictures into wordpress posts might be a piece o’ cake to some people but to me it’s a big pain in the ass. The alignment sucks, I know, the picture is small, I know, the text is not wrapping, I know. I give up.

Anyway, that’s my left leg. My knee is to the right, just out of the frame, and that huge bruise is the outcome of being hit with the Dodgeball of Certain Bruising during yesterday’s game.

Remember how I decorated my office recently, and how I blatantly copied the people from upstairs? Well, apparently, when a bunch of guys decorates for the holidays, they take it REALLY seriously. And as they seem to not have heard that saying about imitation and flattery, they sort of got huffy in a testosterone-fueled way. Encounters in the stairwell were peppered with insults, threats were made, and then, finally, the gauntlet was thrown down and they challenged us to a duel.

Over holiday decorations.

Okay, we (collectively) said, you’re on. And, you’re going down.

Yesterday at 2pm, we shut down and headed to the gym. Initially, I wasn’t going to play, because my new best friend the physical therapist said the only things I could do were walking, stationary bike, and the annoying exercises he assigned me, but I’ve never actually played dodgeball before and it looked fun and I couldn’t resist.

I got that bruise the very first time I was hit. You guys. I saw the guy WINDING UP. I saw the Look of Doom in his eyes. I saw the ball hurtling towards me at 97 billion miles per hour, and I FROZE. All I could do was watch it get closer and closer until it hit me, and then I was all, “OW!” and “Holy crap!” and damn I wish I would’ve, you know, dodged.

Still, my non-dodging skills aside, we won 4 out of 6 games, and had a fab time. Plus, I have that awesome bruise.

Anyway, it’s my mom’s birthday today. I sent out her birthday card three weeks ago. I am all over it. Happy Birthday, Momma!

Tschuss!!

Ugh, you guys, I’ve had a couple different entries written for today but ended up erasing them all. I’m having issues, and they are all either boring (my ongoing back problems), highly personal (my daughter is the most unorganized person in the entire world and she is finding out the hard way that the 7th grade is not the place for disorganization) or…no, I already covered boring. So there you go. Boring or personal, or, perhaps boring AND personal, depending on how you look at it.

But here’s something fun, the physical therapist I saw yesterday (the third in less than one year, yay for continuity!) had this conversation with me:

PT guy: So, where is home for you?

me: Oregon

PT guy: Oregon! Where at, specifically?

me, thinking: here we go…which one this time? do I go with the flat-out lie “Portland”, true-but-vague “near Portland”, or the generic “the Coast”? Actually…fuck it.

me: Um, Lincoln City…???

PT guy: GET OUTTA HERE. Lincoln City? I’m from Willamina!

(editor’s note: Willamina is approximately 37 miles away and even smaller than LC, believe it or not, with a population of less than 2000.)

me: No WAY!

PT guy: Yeah! We played you guys all the time! Did you play sports?

me: Uhhh…ha ha. No, well…I was a cheerleader and kept score for basketball and baseball…

And on and on it went. We graduated a year apart, and it is virtually guaranteed that at some point during those three joint years we were less than a football field or basketball court apart. Which is crazy, when you are in the military. When you are in the military, and you run into coincidences like that, you are instantly friends, even if you are enlisted and the other person is an officer and a doctor.

Anyway. John just asked me how my studying for tomorrow’s test was going, and I told him, “FINE.” And then he said, “…what are you typing?” and I said, “NOTES. LEAVE ME ALONE.” to which he responded, “So these tests…what happens again if you fail?” I told him, “I’M NOT FAILING! GOD!”

So. I guess I should go study. Crappy.

Tschuss!!

You guys, I love Greg all of the flattire boys over at flattire.org an incredible amount, for several reasons. One, he they religiously read my blog, two, they link to me when he they are feeling particularly kind, or one of them (Greg) has an illness. And…that’s only two reasons, so perhaps I should amend the ’several’ to ‘a couple of’. Or, maybe I can quote my dad, who likes to say, “A couple three”, which has never, ever made sense to me.

Anyway, also because he’s they are funny as hell. (The flattire boys, not my dad. Although…I do laugh a lot when I’m around my dad, so…hmm) Don’t believe me? Go see for yourself, and then tell me that’s not the funniest crap you’ve read in awhile.

You’re welcome. Also, perhaps NSFW. In a fleshed-out stick-figure sort of way. Sort of.

Tschuss!