A Very Buttock-Centered Entry
Monday, May. 12, 2008 at 8:42 a.m.
Several things are going on today (most of which started over the weekend) so I�ll just be doing a tally of the summation of the highlights. Wow, that sentence hurt my head, at least.
1) So my butt really really hurts. In particular the tailbone. I�ve added bicycling to my exercise routine and the Hubster and I have even added it to our weekend going-out-to-lunch routine. If there�s a restaurant close by, that is. We�re not about to bicycle six miles in one direction just to get a cheeseburger. Well, at least, not yet. So anyway, despite my cycle seat being padded and my own personal seat being padded (I even had to shout at the Hubster on his bike in front of me, �Watch out! Fat Woman on a Bicycle!�) my tailbone aches and my behind feels abused, and not in a nice or at least enjoyable-by-both-parties way. On the other hand, that 4-mile round trip to Curves is getting a lot easier. Yay me!
2) Wally, our youngest and our largest cat (only about 16 pounds or so) had a bit of a rough week last week. He�s the only one that wants to venture outside and so we give him supervised yard time, much like a death row prisoner, but we went one step beyond and got him microchipped in case he ever realizes that he probably could scale the fence. At the same time, he got a rabies shot, and next week he�s going back for FELV and . . . something else, so he�s got people poking and prodding him and sticking things up his butt. Add to that his fondness for floss, and he had a real butt problem over the weekend. Yes, our Wally has a jonesin� for floss. We�ve caught him digging through the garbage can for it, and the problem is that he eats it and then has a problem with getting rid of it. Imagine dingleberries of a Ben-Wa-Ball set of a very wrong kind of variety. Gads. No fun for us at all. And certainly no fun for Wally, as we had to hold him down to try to help him, well, get that stuff off and . . . ahem . . . out.
3) Finally, something not butt-related. Be very very careful when using a mandolin to slice sweet potatoes. And no, I don�t mean the stringed instrument of bluegrass fame, I mean those razor-sharp slicing instruments of potential death. Because it may be hard to slice a sweet potato, even on a mandolin. What isn�t hard to do is to have your hand slip and then slice your knuckle halfway down to the bone. OUCH! And now, because I am paranoid, I have visions that the mandolin will come to life, much like an inanimate object of a Stephen King story and come after me.
4) Hubster has gone on a business trip to Witchita. I now get the house to myself for a couple of days. Yes! I can belch and poot with impunity! Oh wait. I do that anyway. And neener for the $3 word.
5) Lastly, every now and then I wonder about the kinds of people have little plastic Jesuses (or is it Jesi?) on the dashboards of their cars. Firstly, why do they have Jesus watching them drive instead of watching the road? But furthermore, what kind of driver needs this kind of Jesus in his car?
