He wears His Height Reluctantly.

So, hockey is finished for another season at our house. Okay, hockey as in minor hockey..there’s still Junior High hockey which is sort of like the Hunger Games, but without all the fun of dying. Each team battles it out on the ice for the supreme ultimate title of Winnah. I’m not sure what they ultimately win except bragging rights to being the Junior High victors, but I guess when you’re 14, that’s a pretty big deal. I spent the entire day Saturday watching son play two games of hockey for his Bantam B Minor hockey team. In the final game of the championship, they were beaten badly by 10-0….ouch. However, they did get silver in the supreme ultimate “Bantam B Provincial Blah Blah” title, so that’s awesome. I enjoyed watching son play, but it was quite stressful at times and I was bowing my head to the Gods of Hockey to bless him with sudden 6’7” height and behemoth mass, (a tall order, pardon the pun, from his 5’almost 2” height and 93 pound stature) in order to survive the onslaught of the other guys who actually DID look like they had been acquired from a NHL team …ugh. He managed and was proud of his play…and that silver thingy hanging around his neck. I was happy to have muddled through an entire day dedicated to a cold arena and too much coffee, and not having to cart anybody off to a hospital or say the fateful words of “how many fingers am I holding up?”
The running season is upon me and I feel its weight every time I step outside. I can feel mine too unfortunately, and I’m battling it out with the road and the cars and the hills and the rocks and the damned little ruts in the side of the road that nearly send me flying on my ass every time I hit one absently or from the wrong side of my foot. I get honks from friends who suddenly realize that it’s me running and not some lost wayward soul out toddling along after her lost dog or little lamb that darted from the farm. Do we have sheep around here? Hmmm…
It’s a struggle and with the weather being all uncooperative and stuff, it just gets me annoyed. On the forecast for tomorrow morning, the morning of my next scheduled run? Snow. Freezing fucking rain. Yay! Strap on the studded running shoes and let’s get out there in the 100 mile an hour winds and the freezing bullets of rain pelting your face until the blood starts streaming from your cheeks and you look like a character gone awry from a Stephen King novel. “Oh, look it’s Kayjai doing her best Carrie impersonation out here…ewww….Is that blood from her eyes???!!! Gawd, take it down a notch will ‘ya? I got kids in ma car”… That sounds about right.
If the weather ever gets warmer than 0, I’ll be the first one to proclaim it Spring. Until then, I’ll have to don ma protective face wear and head outside. This should do it.

The read marks add decoration. Pretty!

The red marks add decoration…pretty!

It’s not half as scary as having bloody cuts from the freezing rain, right? Right? I’ll be sure to wear a jacket that says “Jason’s Machete Emporium” with a pic of a very  sharp object on the back…
Happy Spring, Peeps!

Advertisements

Walking From Zombies Would Be So Much More Fun If There Were Actual Zombies Following Me

  Since my knee has been giving me trouble, I have been relegated to walking instead of running.  In response to this downward spiral of activity, my body has rebelled by gaining pounds (I’ll not say how many, but it’s akin to a cute baby beluga) and my metabolism as slowed to a near snail-like pace.  Nice.

Yesterday was a nice day and as I was still in vacay-mode, I set off on a walk.  These are the thoughts that invaded my head during that hour- long sojourn into ass pain:

“This walking-shit sucks”

“This blows chunks.  I fucking hate this”

(These first two thoughts were made in less than 1 minute into the walk)

“This is going to take me forever”

“Ugh…whose idea was this?”

“Oh I so much would rather be running like you”  *longingly looks at a runner perhaps too creepily as she gives me a weird look and rushes off*

“Fuck off, I hate this shit too. Stop looking at me like I’m a 90year old grandmother”

“At least if I had a somewhat normal semblance of a dog, I could probably take her with me. Instead, I get mini-Cujo with allergies and hyper-sensitivities to anything that moves.”

“I love that damned dog”

“Maybe I should concentrate on my next great post.”

“’Great’ being the optimal word. I rock”

“I need a new job”

“One where I get paid oodles of money without leaving the comfort of my house”

“I just described everyone’s dream situation.  We should all work from home.  And bake cookies.  And drink wine”

wine and cookies

“I wonder if all stay-at-home and work-from-home peeps do that…bake cookies and drink wine all day.  When do they do laundry or clean?”

“Hire a maid.”

“Yeah.  Great plan”

“Mmmmm…wine.  I need more.  Hey, I didn’t drink that much on holiday.”

“That lemon-drop martini was awesome.  I soo should learn how to make that mutha for DH”

“And I developed a whole new appreciation for Sangria.  Should make that stuff up too.”

“Man I have a lot of drinking plans ahead of me.  Sad? Or rockin’?”

“Def. Rockin’”

“I need a good story idea for the CBC contest.”

“Hmmm…mystery?  Nah. Definitely not romance…crap.”

“Yeah, you’re running, I’m walking. You’re awesome and I’m old.  I’m almost over it.”

“Who am I kidding?  This supremely sucks”

“I’ve decided I need more socialization with other people.  Maybe I should take obedience classes like Maggie”

“Maybe there’ll be a Benny in my class too!  THAT WOULD BE SO AWESOME!”

“Look, lady if you’re going to stop for me, stop. Otherwise go on into the intersection that is laden with speeding vehicles and take your life into your own hands.  Become one with the road!”

“ASS”

“I have nothing but contempt and ire-ridden loathing…hey! I’m almost home!”

“And me just about to continue my negative shit-storming.”

“This wasn’t so bad”

*approaches door*

“Who am I kidding?”

*walks inside porch*

“This totally blew chunks.

Maybe if there was a gang of zombies following me, it would make the whole walking thing a bit more interesting.

Maybe if there was a gang of zombies following me, it would make the whole walking thing a bit more interesting.

 

Loose Limbs

There was a comment made at DH by Bestie the other night about her knee. She has been running and she suddenly developed this odd bump or ‘growth’ on the side of her right knee.  ( I bet she is soo impressed I’m telling you this right now.  She’ll be all “OMG I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU TOLD THE WORLD ABOUT MY KNEE-GROWTH!” And I’ll say “Calm down.  If you wanted to tell the world about half of the crap that seems to eek from my appendages, do you think I’d mind?!  Hell, no I’ve probs told everybody everything anyways, so go with it Sista!”  ‘Cause that’s how we roll)

Anywho, about the growth.  Yeah.  She said she laid off the running to see if it would magically disappear since she can’t risk injury. (it’s still there but on a smaller scale)  She needs to be able to stand up to make a living.  She’s a hairstylist (and not a nude artists’ model like I know all of you were thinking).   And a damned good one, peeps!  (that soooo makes up for my mentioning her knee-growth) 

That statement pretty much got me thinking… I don’t really need all my ‘appendages’ to be able to earn a living at what I do.  In fact, if I was missing a limb or two, it wouldn’t matter.   Not that I’m going to throw my arm into the nearest wood chipper or ‘accidentally’ fall in front of a moving lawn mower, but there is some comfort in knowing if my finger or toe or left hand suddenly detaches from my body, my life is not permanently ruined.  My career is not over.

 Maybe a little uncomfortable, I mean can you imagine trying to maneuver multiple hand puppets with just one hand?  Or trying to toe paint with only 4 toes?  (I’m figuring one toe missing from the dominant painting foot…provided you have two feet.  If not then that really sucks) 

See?  Stuff can be done with missing body parts.  Wait, what? 

I should clarify…one can still operate and function without ALL appendages just fine.  Not that you would do something with someone else’s detached limb like use it to clean the toilet or pick up the dog’s poop or touch somebody on the shoulder when he wasn’t looking and then stroke his cheek in a loving manner only for him to become abruptly aware the hand is kinda ‘manly’ and then he suddenly sees the man-hand as it independently moves around haphazardly and he screams like a little girl who just got her first cell phone.   No…not at all….

So not the hand I had envisioned but it will do in a pinch....

So not the hand I had envisioned but it will do in a pinch….

I noticed a spot on my arm that is different from the gagillion other spots I have on my arm.  It’s a great spot of pink.  So, I decided to Google ‘bright pink spot on my arm.’   Now I know why doctors HATE IT when patients Google shit.

 DON’T GOOGLE SHIT. They should have that sign on their door.  I should probs pay attention to it next time.  Apparently it has to be a certain shade of pink to qualify as ‘right’.  LIKE WHAT, A SALMON COLOR?!!

 

Hypochondriacs must have a hell of a time on Google.  Their doctors must ban Google or tell them to stay away from computers.  How would they be able to remain sane with all of the ‘this causes cancer’ and ‘you will die if you have this’ or ‘death is imminent; get out now while you still can’?    It reminds me of D1 who every time she gets a headache, she has a brain tumor. Or if she has a little pain, it must be a cancerous tumor that is spreading wildly or if she gets a hangnail, she’ll have to amputate her whole hand since gangrene is imminent. 

She’s the nursing student.

 I know.  Four years of hilarity coming ma way! 

And brain tumors…let’s not forget all the brain tumors.