Thursday, March 13, 2014

A Wild Rumpus and a Tragic Affair with a Beatles T-Shirt

I lost a former neighbor this week, and I had planned to write about that, but his memory is so tied to my mama. We lived by Dave and his wife during the last few years of her life and I'm having a hard time writing about those wonderful years. Before Molly, they were the happiest time of my life. Soon I will tell you the story of our little insulated village of friends, but today there is marshmallow fluff about two times I got out of my bloody bed.

I'm having a wicked pain surge the past few days. Finn (who is maybe a foot & a half tall) pulled hard on his leash while I was standing on a mudslide in our yard during The Blessed Melt of Last Week, and I busted ass hard. Everyone in the neighborhood apparently had jobs and the like during the day so no one saw my butthurt. I jammed up my wonky hip, twisted my bad ankle, and skinned my knee, ruining my favorite leggings. That wee mutt is pure muscle and lead bones. His center of gravity (Sciencey Shane explains) makes him crazy strong and he often pulls me off balance and knocks the babygirl and her friends off their feet frequently.

So last week was a lot of resting and ice and heat and soooo much narcotics. Then on Saturday my neighbor who has parallel problems with pain invited me to wrangle all of our girls (she has three ten and under) and go see a bluegrass show. As bluegrass is empirically proven to be the perfect antidepressant, we forced our aching asses to leave the hollow. She also introduced us to bubble tea, which seems to be a splash of green tea in a fruit and yogurt smoothie, with little balls of tapioca that are the texture of gummy bears but taste mild and an alright sort of weird. I'm not a fan of gummies so I'll forgo the boba next time. Molly tried it with the tapioca and hated the "bubbles", but I'm thrilled she tried it. She seems to be tentatively coming out of her extreme picky habits.

The opening act was fantastic. I can't recommend The Wild Rumpus enough. We each bought a CD, though afterward we each realized we don't own CD players and ripped them. Here's a sample:


My Molly was beaming when they played this.

After the Rumpus the kids were crashing and we moms were feeling our respective ailments flaring so we bailed but it was a lovely, successful act of Being Not At Home. (Thanks again to my lovely neighbor for the invitation!)

***

Yesterday I needed to drive Shane to work to pick up a car from the office's pool, so since I had to go out anyway I went shopping with gift cards that had been burning a hole in my second-hand leather wallet (shut up- SECOND HAND) since Christmas. I bought some lovely pieces but I'm going to have to return a couple because apparently I can't read size labels and one gorgeous loose-knit boho top I bought won't survive one cuddle session with my hyperactive puppy. However: There is a Beatles jersey shirt that is far overpriced, and I am going to have it. It is so, so my soul mate t-shirt. The delicate boho blouse is not for my world.

***

And now I'm paying for my outings with more days in bed. I saw my pain doc again, and I'm going to try a topical pain cream. It's supposed to address the joint problems that he now thinks are muscle and nerve related because the way I reacted to the facet injections indicated that my actual joints aren't the problem. They helped, though, because of the cortisone. I don't know why I didn't ask him about continuing them on that basis, but I'm going to call now that I'm being not stupid.

As soon as I get to a level of function where 12:30pm is not my morning, I've got a couple of drawing projects to get moving. I'm donating a piece to an autism fundraiser, which I did last year, and there's the Earth Day show.

So I'm off to make that phone call and get flat on my cranky back and try to make peace with doing some more nothing for a few days. Much love, my b'leaders!
Prettyartsoonpromise.

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