Friday, August 08, 2008

Jackass autopilot

As you all know, my brothers and I suffer from advanced cases of jackassitis. I was reminded of this last Sunday while on the phone with Doris. She was mentioning to me that neither of my brothers have done anything particularly stupid recently. She was calling me up to see what I had done to myself because, well it just isn't family life if one of us isn't in a cast, brace or limping.

Having ascertained that I have not in fact tried to single handedly push any semi-trailers out of ditches, fallen off of crazily stacked chairs or boxes while trying to change a light bulb, amputate any extraneous digits with a kitchen knife, slipped on one of the improper tools I was using while trying to effect some ill advised electrical repair or gas, poison or blow myself up, she went on to tell me about the willful stupidity of the rest of my benighted relatives. In great detail. For an hour. At the end of the conversation, I couldn't help but feel that she was a little disappointed at the perfidious nature of her sons and that we were all conspiring to deprive her of one of her favorite pastimes which is to exclaim, "Oh for God's sake! What is wrong with you boys?" Nothing expresses maternal love in the Pelletier household like an ongoing exposition on the stupidity of her middle aged male offspring and how it's only a miracle that we haven't killed ourselves with our relentless idiocy.

After getting off the phone with the old lady, I have to admit, I was feeling like there was something wrong with the shape of reality. If nothing else, my younger brother can be relied on to have dropped an engine block on his foot or at least making an spirited attempt to maim himself for life with industrial power tools.

Having been dealing with a non-jackass related shoulder injury (bursitis) I've actually been trying to not make matters worse. I have been kinda proud of myself, really. I have been doing my hated physical therapy exercises and following the physical therapists advice, I have been working on a careful increase of my shoulder workout to strengthen my shoulder muscles. Who knows, at this rate I may one day have visible deltoids?

Whatever the case, I have been trying not to accept any deliveries from the bigass tanker truck of stupid that follows me around.

Sounds like a great plan, huh?

The flaw in all of this is that the middle aged body has a life of its own and every now and then gets bored and decides to demand a little attention if things have been kind of dull. In that spirit, last night I must have slept wrong.

It's a curious expression, when you think about it. Sleeping wrong. How the hell do you sleep wrong? Do you spend the night with your eyes open while unconscious? Do you get up and go for a 20 mile hike with a full military pack while you are asleep?

Whatever the case, my lower back must have decided last night that it had had enough of this goody two shoes, behaving myself, not indulging in stupid, acting like I am still 20 years old, bullshit and was just going to take matters into it's own hands.

This morning, after a chaste and blameless night in my bed I woke up feeling refreshed and ready to face a new day. Well at least as much as I am prepared for anything first thing in the morning, sat up to go feed Alice only to discover that the lower back pixies had been hammering roofing nails into my lower right back.


This is just so wrong. It's a bit like those mornings when you wake up and feel like you've been on a 3 night drunk and you haven't so much as looked at a cocktail in months. All the pain, none of the fun. I have always been suspicious of virtuous behavior. As a favorite author once wrote (and I'm paraphrasing here) the wages of sin may be death, but the salary of virtue is the same and you don't get the weekends off.

I suppose as I prepare to limp off to work that I should take some comfort in the knowledge that balance has been returned to the universe. I really ought to call up Doris and let her know. I'm sure it will make her feel better.

Wednesday, August 06, 2008

Tempus Fugit

Another year has ticked by. I have realized that I have been inflicting my ongoing battles against, physical fitness, fat, gravity and the forces of Doris on an unsuspecting public for 2 years now.

I think when I started out I figured I was going to be typing into a vacuum and that approximately 2 people would ever read my rants and ramblings. Instead I must have, oh, 10 people reading this blog. Woooohoooooo!

Seriously, when I stop and think about it, it has been an extraordinary experience. I have met a lot of great people, both online and in person or in a couple of notable cases at least on IM or the phone. You know who you are Cowbell and Doralong.

If it's not what I signed up for, I'm not complaining. It has been unexpected in a lot of ways. I've had the chance to meet people in person after only knowing about them through their blogs and it has been a consistently happy experience.

I am not sure what the average life expectancy of a blog is, but if I sometimes come up short with posts, I haven't come to the end either. I guess you're stuck with me a while longer. Who knows. I might even do some more naked posting. And Sage, I did put NSFL on the last one. You have no one to blame but yourself about having to soak your eyes in bleach again.