I Get Knocked Down …

and at some point, hopefully I’ll get back up again. I was so happy about two weeks ago when I felt like blogging again. YAY! Things are looking up! I can … OOPS! WOW! SHIT! Trip ##@!!!! BANG! &&**### CRASH!

I used to sleepwalk years ago and got pretty beat up but that cleared up when I stopped wearing ear plugs to sleep because of … well … snoring in the vicinity.

I apparently got up to use the bathroom at about 4:00am, my husband heard loud crashing and banging and ran in to find me laying on the floor unconscious. I had managed to ricochet around the room and beat the crap out of myself. Ended up with a broken collar bone and various … owies. WTF!

According to the doctor I am at an “age” where I mustn’t leap up from bed lest I lose consciousness because of the rapid change in blood pressure. WTF! I’m not sure I’m on board with that.

This kind of crap didn’t happen when the dogs were around. I’m firmly convinced this happened because my wingmen are not here. WOULD NOT have happened if my babies had been here … okay, maybe he might be right but still. I’m here, minding my business and what? I got old?

This will NOT stand. I’ll do more yoga or something but I’m not having this. Anyway, the very worst part is IT WAS MY  LEFT SHOULDER! I am left-handed. I’m supposed to wear this stupid sling. I can’t type, I can’t visit Catwynn. Well, I can but I don’t have that kind of patience.

Today I decided I will wear the sling if I’m moving but sitting I don’t have to, enough. I have found that my right hand is a sniveling little freeloader who can’t do anything.

I had, HAD to see this when I read about it on Twitter. I’ve done nothing much but lurk on Twitter. It’s kind of dangerous because my stupid right hand is not reliable and I’m always fearful I’ve just liked something heinous.

Now Charlottesville happens. There is no place for “Neo” Nazis, KKK or “old” Nazis here. I don’t know what happened to you. You weren’t born that way. None of us are, we’re made that way. There are no race traitors. We are all the same, some good, some bad. The human race.

Me? I’m angry at this. I think the 99.999% are just fine with us fighting among ourselves. We should stop.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Shot through the heart …

Yeah … that’s not really the title but I was trying to be polite. The title is actually:

Kicked in the nuts and you’re to blame, you give RL a bad name. I even got Cat to do a dramatization of being kicked in the nuts. I think she did a damn fine job considering neither of us actually have said nuts, but you know what I mean. Real life sucks right now. You can tell because I start getting crotchety and saying eff this and eff that. For example, eff you AOL.

And for those youngsters who have no clue as to the reference, here:

And yes, I was once in that audience. I’m that damn old, what about it. I had the hair too.

Anyway … WoW. I didn’t appreciate followers, REALLY appreciate them until now. I can grab a minute here and there, login and feel like I got to play. I love that, it keeps me sane … sort of.

Once again, eff you AOL. I am following @AlexZiebart because I think something will be revealed tomorrow that will cheer me up about the demise of WoW Insider. While stalking him on Twitter I found he has written a book so I bought it to read whilst I wait to hear cheery news. It was kind of a no brainer as it sounds like my kind of book.

Cim wanted to tell you about her continuing pony hunt but I can only take so much typing on a device that IS NOT MADE for typing … at least by me.

I just wanted to say hi, I’m still here lurking on your blogs. Hopefully things will get back to normal sometime soon. Right now I’ve got to go celebrate my dog’s twelfth birthday.

Eff you AOL.

 

 

IRL Questing …

So yeah … there are those times that real life seems awfully similiar to what happens in Azeroth. There is an objective you want to attain and sometimes … maybe because you choose an unorthodox method to accomplish it … it takes some planning. The last time I tried completing an IRL quest I failed miserably.

Over on this side I have fubared my right arm from shoulder to wrist. I kept blaming it on the amount of time I spend on my computer. I don’t know why I was so blind. I guess if you do something EVERY DAY for ten years with no ill effects you don’t think that’s the problem … well it was.

For ten years I have had ninety pounds of enraged dog with six feet of momentum launching himself at any perceived danger. His attack (not really an attack, he’s just trying to scare the scary thing) comes to an abrupt end … at the end of my right arm. I did not catch on until I started using my left arm and began having the same symptoms.

EUREKA! Perhaps arms are not designed to be the equivalent of the device that stops jets when landing on aircraft carriers. Who knew!

I have sympathy for him, I mean people carrying umbrellas is some scary shit. ANYONE approaching from behind … I know! Who likes that. So anyway, my husband said, I must stop walking him. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA … in fairness to him I think he thought he should say it … you know, cause it’s the sensible thing to do. It’s not like he really thought I’d do it.

So here’s the really cool thing. My husband, who won’t enter Azeroth, unknowingly embarked on an IRL quest. He disappeared and when he returned he said he had the problem solved!  He found a belt that was made specifically to attach a dog to … HANDS FREE dog walking!

Yeah … so I’m thinking this is either really sweet … or he’s trying to get me ripped in half … I’m not sure which.

As it turns out, my entire body has a lot more stopping power than my arm. My husband aced the quest.

But … it’s winter, it’s been REALLY cold which means using my SERIOUS winter coat … the big puffy down one. Yeah, that’s what I look like up there. A marshmallow with a rubber band in the middle. Cars are slowing as they pass, people staring out the windows in wonder. LOOK! LOOK! Mommy, it’s a monster!

I certainly hope my dog appreciates that I’m impersonating movie monsters to make sure he gets his walk.

I shouldn’t complain. Arm can recover. Dog can walk. Quest completed! 100 Tokens of Dog Walk Awarded and a Sack of Expired Pet Food. Not a bad day’s walk’s work.

Long Ago, in a Land Far Far Away

I’ve been enjoying the responses to Ambermist’s July Challenge, There’s Something About You. I wasn’t going to respond because no matter how much I thought about it I couldn’t think of a thing. I’m pretty boring. My mother came over and she had a big, old, manilla folder full of pictures and clippings, pretty much the detritus of my past.

I started looking through it and found an old newspaper clipping. Azeroth is my passion at the moment and has been for about six years. But I looked at the clipping and remembered my first passion. Horses. From the time I was around eleven to the time I was twenty, they were my whole life. I knew I could not live without them.

In a land far away some track PR person thought a few female races would draw in the crowds. I enrolled in the Escuela de Jinetes. I was even given a nickname by the other jockeys. Roughly translated it’s The Girl with the Straight Ahead Nose. Yeah, not as cool as The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo but you take what you get.

I enjoyed it, but I’m 5 feet 8 inches tall so my career as a jockey went only as far as those PR races. As much as I starved, those horses were still carrying way over their limit, but I can still remember what it felt like the first time the bell rang and we leapt out of that gate.

I continued to compete on my horses in events where my weight wasn’t an issue. I got dinged up a lot. I was teaching a senior class when my back packed it in and said enough. Those poor people in my class had to try to pry me off the horse I was riding because I couldn’t move. So at the ripe old age of twenty I had to hang up my boots.

So there it is, my first love. And yeah, I don’t put my picture up ANYWHERE on the internet but believe me, lol, no one’s ever going to recognize me from that faded picture of sixteen year old me. I really like this picture. We’re almost at the gate, he’s about to put her in the chute. The bell will ring. AND WE WILL FLY.