Chapter3--The bicycle mishap

Something has always bothered me about those clips bicyclists put on their bike shoes to connect their shoes to their pedals. I have always had these visions of falling while both feet were anchored steadfastly to their respective pedals and there would be nothing I could do to save myself. Just such an incident occurred to the Bionic Man. He had borrowed a bicycle from a friend that he might continue to train for his 450 mile ride next month. He had taken the bike out for a test drive, after fastening his feet securely to the pedals. He is used to his recumbent 3 wheel bike. On the 3 wheel bike you can barely move at all and still remain okay. I think he forgot he had to keep moving on a 2 wheel bike. So, as he rummaged for jelly beans in one of his jersey pockets, out in front of the house, he simply tipped over. I wish I I had a video. It must have been like one of those cartoons where the guy just tips over sidewise like a domino. Only, unlike the cartoon version, he actually hurt himself. He used his cell phone to call us, as no one was with him at the time. He said, "I'm lying in the road out front and it's not good." We all rushed over to the window to see. Sure enough, there he was. So we dragged him into the back seat of the car and hauled him over to the ER. Now, rule of thumb on an ER visit. When they ask you what your level of pain is, do not say "2". Bad idea. Of course it's best if you are bleeding profusely or unconscious, but allot of moaning is good too. But he says, "2". So we are shuffled off into the black hole to wait. Godzilla, the ER nurse, finally came to take him to Xray. She had the compassion of a Nazi on steroids, jerked him around, wouldn't let me help her, and off they went. Then there was the doctor who couldn't, by law, tell me anything about his condition, but he was somewhere around. 'Just wait here'. Bottom line was that his hip was broken. They would have to do surgery tomorrow. The orthopedic doctor came in, and drew a diagram of the broken bone and what they proposed to do. Realize that the southern drawl is not always comprehensible, and apparently they don't understand us either. Bionic Man asked to take a picture of his drawing to post on Facebook, and the doctor was somewhat taken aback because he thought Bionic Man wanted a picture of his groin. But eventually we got that all straightened out. And once he was settled in for the night I went home. As I was leaving, we noted that there was a chart on the wall with smiley faces attached denoting levels of pain. Bionic Man at that time said, with chagrin, I don't think I was ever a 2. That face looks too happy.

Chapter 2--Perky Hair

Before I delve into the topic of the day I would like to know if you know anyone who has driven by a toilet sitting by the side of the road and said, "Shazam! I could use a new toilet." and picked it up. I see them periodically and just wonder.

But back to our South Carolina encounter. I saw allot of people down there with perky hair and could not, for the life of me, figure out how they accomplished this feat. I felt like I was scuba diving most of the time, the air was so humid. I think my hair kind of hung in strings the whole time we were there, refusing to cooperate at all. But I saw some ladies with the perky thing going on. Must you use hairspray and gel by the bucket load, rendering your head a lethal weapon, or do you have to be born there to develop Southern Hair? I need help.

Trip To SC--Chapter 1

Last week I was in South Carolina visiting my grandchildren and those 2 people they live with. It was the fourth birthday of William and his mother had suggested that Grandma make some costumes for him. He likes to play at make believe and the costumes would be just the thing. Per the request, I made him a dragon/dinosaur costume, which was pretty awesome, if I do say so. I also made a knight costume which was enhanced by some purchased items. The last thing was a cowboy hat, and others contributed a 6 shooter, holster and belt. We were set. He tried on the knight first and announced that "Now I really need a horse." I agreed and suggested he get permission from his father. : ) But he wore the dinosaur costume most of the day. He had it on when we went to McDonald's for lunch. Upon reflection, however, he had me help him take it off before we went inside. "I don't want to scare the people in there." I thought that was really cute, and thoughtful of him.

Ant Rules

I was at a social event tonight discussing the ant issue with other ant-o-phobes. Actually, I may be the only phobic person, the others are merely admitting to a violent dislike. I was aware that not everyone has studied these creatures like I have. And there are several rules you need to know about ants. In case there was any misunderstanding, I am talking about the half inch giant black ants, not the minuscule grease ants. My ants are wily. Here are some rules to live by if you see any of them around.

1. If you see one ant on your counter, you have to know that there may be 300 of them somewhere else. The one you saw is the look out. If he lives long enough to signal his little ant buddies, that's when chaos ensues. Suddenly they are all over the place, running willy nilly hither and yon. Kill the look out.

2. If you send someone to dispatch the ants, you must always view the body. Those that are more of the 'live and let live' mentality do not always realize the enormity of the problem and may allow them to escape. Thus, demand to see the body. This applies to all insects who may cross your path.

3. Even if you have squashed the ant beyond recognition, they sometimes exhibit an almost bionic trait and can still pinch and I am pretty sure, come back to life. Thus, you must flush them, no exceptions. Even drowning them in a puddle of ant spray is no guarantee of death.

4. NEVER SHOW MERCY! It will be viewed as a sign of weakness.

They're Ba-a-a-ack

Last week it happened. The ants are back. They have found me. Last time I was invaded I had to move, change my address, get a new hairdo, and essentially live undercover for 10 years. It is sort of like being in the witness protection program, only no FBI. But last week, as I was minding my own business, doing my email, I noticed him. He was standing perfectly still, staring at me, not 12 inches away. I think he thought if he stood completely motionless that I couldn't see him, so I played along. After about 10 minutes, he moved. It was nearly imperceptible. He started to lift his left front leg, and very slowly turn. I pretended not to see. Then it was the right leg. I knew he was about to make a break for it, and deftly made my move. He nearly got away as I was unaware of the uneven surface he was standing on, but I pinched him and then flushed him, the ultimate indignity. That was 6 days ago. Since then I have killed 12 more. It makes no difference to me that 'this is a bad year for ants', I don't want them in my house. And clearly, it's a bad year for ants at my house. I am hoping I don't have to change identities and addresses again. Stay tuned.