Monthly Archives: May 2011
So I’m out of the walking cast, which is lovely. Because? Walking cast? Not so great for walking in. Which means I’ve watched a whole lot of television the last few weeks.
Three cheers for Tivo. Keeping me from having to watch cable “news” or daytime television.
Of course it also keeps me in a constant state of confusion. Because of the little snippets of news they throw in on the commercial breaks (um, I guess those would be the commercials for the news…) Where they talk about the huge storm that is about the hit, and how much rain we’re about to have. And how it might hit eighty degrees tomorrow. And how this movie is not yet rated, but will be out in January. Because I have shows from last year on my Tivo.
I keep having to log on to check the news… the weather… the date…. At first it felt like I was time traveling, but eventually it just felt like I was going crazy.
But anyway, I have the walking cast off now. And? Still watching a ton of tv. Because not wearing the boot doesn’t actually mean I’m all better. I know this because I was wild and crazy and walked around the block today, and now my foot is swollen up. Again.
And this is the part where I’m supposed to write something pithy, so I sound like the sort of intelligent witty woman you want to invite to your next party. Because you’re pretty sure I’ve got some fabulous stories, and will probably bring a nice bottle of wine. And then I wrap it up, and you think, wow, I’m glad I stopped by.
So lets just pretend I wrote that, and didn’t end by saying Ow! My foot hurts. Why is no one bringing me chocolate and an ice-pack? And, what the hell, why are they running Christmas ads in May, what is wrong with these people?
Me: Ooh! The Bay To Breakers is this Sunday! We should totally do that!
Me: Oh come on, it will be fun.
Husband: Seriously? No.
Me: I know we haven’t trained for it, but we don’t have to run the whole way.
Me: Okay, we don’t have to run any of it. We can just walk.
Husband: Are you insane?
Me: It’s the 100th one! We’d be spending the day together outside getting exercise. Why don’t you want to?
Husband: Your foot.
I don’t often give parenting advice. What with not having babies. Or the ability to keep houseplants alive.
But I thought I’d share some advice I recently gave to a woman expecting a baby in six weeks – a woman who suddenly realized that while a friend with the same due date has a picture perfect nursery waiting for their soon to arrive son, and she has done nothing. Except one childbirth class, and of course that whole building a whole new person thing. But now she is a little worried that the baby is going to come home from the hospital and have to sleep in a dresser drawer.
But I say if you’re worried that you’ll be judged by your adult daughter for not having provided a magazine spread to live in as a tiny infant… well, photo shop some baby photos of your little one into the nursery photo above. And tell your daughter that was her room.
And if she later points out that in other photos of her childhood the room looks totally different, say something along the lines of “you went through a pretty destructive stage as soon as you could crawl, but we love you anyway…”
See, that way you’ve gone from feeling guilty, to making her feel like she owes you something.
The local garden centers don’t sell wolfsbane.
This is a problem since I’ve recently come to realize that I’m not getting older and out of touch, but instead there are werewolves among us. And, just like all Californians should have an emergency kit prepared for earthquakes (um, you do have one, right?) all right thinking people everyone should also have an emergency plan to deal with the lycanthropy problem.
But back to the bad news about wolfsbane. Apparently Aconitum napellus (that’s latin for I can look up things on the internet and find out what the botanical name really is) will kill werewolves. And wolves. And pretty much anything you shoot with an arrow tipped with wolfsbane. Apparently the deadliness in not limited to shooting living things with arrows… I double checked, because I was prepared to argue that arrows tipped with one of my heirloom organic tomatoes from my garden would also be deadly. But no, even without feather guided missile (um, arrow) technology, wolfsbane is deadly.
The garden centers will sell me fleabane. Which I’m assuming will repel fleas. Don’t know how well it would work on werewolves. One possibility is that the were-fleas would be so repelled that they would drag their host werewolf away from the area. Or else the fleabane would cure the were-fleas, and they would revert to their original common flea state. At which point I imagine they would be much less annoying, what with not having the blood drenched flea nails/claws, or super flea blood sucking strength. If this happens I figure there are two equally possible outcomes: 1) the werewolf would feel so much better, not having demon fleas sucking the were-blood out of them, that their original human form could take control, and thus curing the curse of the werewolf, and the need for decoy manicure to disguise the blood and gore. Or 2) the werewolf would no longer be distracted by blood sucking, and could focus and become a more efficient killing machine.
I should probably figure out which one is more likely before I plant some in my garden.
I have figured out a scientific way of determining which scenario is more likely. Apparently Inula dysenterica (once again Latin for I looked up the official name for fleabane) (oh, interesting historical footnote – the latin name references the fact that hundreds of years ago people thought fleabane cured dysentery. True story. Hmm, that was much more interesting in my head…)
Where was I? Oh yes, Inula dysenterica grows freely in Scotland, but rarely in Ireland. So we just need to do some research into the number of werewolf attacks in Scotland vs. Ireland. If there are more mysterious gut ripping dismemberments in Ireland, I’ll be planting fleabane all over the yard, but if it turns out Scotland is more plagued, then I’ll make sure I have none growing in the neighborhood.
Science! Why don’t they teach us how cool and helpful it can be while they try and make us memorize boring stuff in high school?
Seriously, I would have paid more attention in school if they’d mentioned science could prevent me from being a wolfman’s midnight snack.
Sigh…Since I can no longer tell the difference between fashion, insanity, or lycanthropy I did some research (which consisted exclusively of quizzing my college-aged cousin. The lengths I go to for blog accuracy….) turns out that the crazy nails I saw at the yoga studio were in fact a current fashion.
I guess that means I am old and out of touch…
The woman next to me really was a werewolf, which as we all know is a contagious condition (if by contagious we mean “someone tried to gut me and eat my spleen as an appetizer, but through some random events, which I don’t quite remember because at the time I was focusing on keeping said guts and spleen private and inside me instead of the werewolf’s mouth, I managed to not die, but now I am doomed to spend some portion of the rest of my like trying to eat the spleen and other squishy bits of innocent bystanders”) and poor nail/claw hygiene could be a side effect of either the condition or the need for extreme time management due to the need for licking blood and guts off face while changing into non-gore soaked clothing, and…
Wait where was I going with this?
Oh yeah – so if she really was a werewolf, then there are obviously others out and about gutting and maiming. And what with the whole need for speedy changes back into mild-mannered secret identity (sort of like Superman changing back into Clark Kent, but the evil blood splattered demon version) then it is only logical to assume that at various times other werewolves have forgotten to do nail grooming to deal with spleen and blood bits under their nail/claws.
So it isn’t really a current fashion, the blood-red really is blood. And the other random colors are what the werewolves paint on occasionally trying to trick people (also known as potential future snacks) into not believing in werewolves.
Yes, this all makes so much sense. Much more reasonable than thinking that I am old and out of touch…