Wifey

Is that what you call a photo that your wife takes of the two of you?

And here we had a casual Christmas Eve.  Rachel was only one week post third ACL repair and we all look a little tired.  At one point during the church service the organist started falling behind (like several counts behind) the keyboard and guitars.  I wondered if they were trying to sing Silent Night as a round.  Rachel (who had been sitting during the song) hobbled to her feet and said, "Get me outta here!  I gotta get outta here!"  Mr. Rellim knew she was just reacting to the musical confusion (and hydrocodon).  Mr. Rellim's sister thought Rachel was going to be ill.  I imagined perhaps that a zombie had sucked out the organist's brain and was headed our way.

Don't judge us.  It's been a long week.

Welcome

It was the greatest passing of noxious gas that Christmas cookie baking has likely ever known, when suddenly there was a knock on the door.  Rapid flapping of arms made no difference.  I opened the door despite  the dealer's warning and in walked seven caroling neighbors, who stood in its wake and sang three beautiful songs.

It was the best of times.  It was the worst of times.

Meds

My good friend called yesterday and began the conversation with, "I just took a muscle relaxant, so I don't know how good I'll be long for talking."

Rachel took some narcotic painkillers this morning before her post-op appointment and she just wouldn't stop (trash) talking.  In the doctor's office she rambled, "So, this really hurts, yeah, right there where you touched.  What did you do there?  Why did you do that?  What do you mean you put an extra screw there?  Do you like cutting people?  Have you always wanted to cut people?  Even when you were little?  I think you put a screw there just so my leg would hurt.  And look at these bruises.  Who did that?  Why?  Do you people like hurting people?"

The surgeon looked at me and I just shrugged, shook my head and rolled my eyes.

But I love his answer, "Yes, you were specifically targeted for persecution by the hospital staff and me.  I wanted to be a lumberjack when I was seven.  Then I wanted to be a computer programmer when I was 14.  Then I didn't know what I wanted to do - so I went to college and now I'm an orthopedic surgeon.  I cut people for my job, not because I want to make you hurt."

I'm so glad he has a teenager at home.

Happiness

I was just getting ready to blog about looking for a patio chair that Rachel could use in the shower today.  Then I remembered that those patio chairs melted in the garage fire a couple months ago.  Then I remembered how right I was about telling her not to leave candles burning unattended in the first place.  It felt good being right, even though I was mildly unhappy.

Then I got an email from my friend, Steve, sharing a scientific? study regarding happiness, being right, and quality of life.  Is this what the National Institute of Health spends its money researching?  I think it's better fit for a Saturday Night Live skit.  And I know just the interpreter for the deaf to hire.

Concert Faux Pas

The high school choral director teaches the kids much about proper concert manners. My father broke many last night when he leaned over to me between songs and attempted to whisper, "You know?  Quinn is really starting to grow up into a handsome little shit."

Did I mention that the concert was held in the sanctuary of a small church in town?  And that the pews were packed?

And on a related note:  When did my parents start swearing in casual conversation?  I recall being grounded once for saying "hell" on a visit home from college during my freshman year.

Third ACL Repair. Same Knee.

Let's not do this again, OK?

I'm trying to think of something funny about it all.

Oh, yeah.  In pre-op after the administration of the meds, Rachel started giggling uncontrollably.  This lasted for about five minutes.  Then she said up straight and said, "Wow!  That hit me fast and hard, but I could totally drive now."

She spent the next few minutes trying to set off the alarm for oxygen saturation levels by holding her breath.  "That'll teach 'em!" she said.

Visitors

Quinn sneaked up behind me and made that Anthony Hopkins Silence of the Lambs tongue-sucking noise while I was cooking supper.  I screamed with gusto, then turned and shouted, "Don't you ever do that again or I WILL KILL YOU!"

Then, remembering that Rachel had a new boy friend (two words) visiting, I chuckled and said, "Oh, you silly kid!  Now go set the table."

The boy friend has not been back since.

You all have my permission to use that technique, if needed, to clear your daughter's friends away.

Things Kids Say

"My dad ate lunch with a body," said a Kindergarten deer-hunting enthusiast.
"Oh?" I asked, "Like a deer carcass?"
"No!  Like a body!" he said, patting his chest.  "It was in the refrigerator and my dad had a sandwich."

I laughed initially, then told him to change the subject or I was going to have to make a bunch of embarrassing phone calls that afternoon.

Proofreading

Doesn't anyone proofread anymore?  It seems that computers can do (almost) all of that for us.

Unfortunately for Ariel, the student soloist at the last chorus program, the group of letters that were typed for her name by the student author were not even close to "Ariel."  Instead, the spell check program automatically corrected to "anal."

I laughed and laughed.