I Hate Growing Old

10.02.2002

One of the things I've managed to inherit from my dad, besides my patches of grey hair, is a bad back. Over this past weekend, I managed to onc again throw my back out. I wish there was a lustful tail of wild frolicking that led to my back not being at an angle approved by the AMA, but no, this is me we're talking about. I did it by moving too much stuff and some yard work.

The last time this happened, I spent 3 days in bed. Staying horizontal, keeping pressure off my back, these are the things that helps. I'm not sure why (maybe the back muscles can finally relax?), but it helps, so that's what I resigned myself to.

Yesterday Gina comes over to check on me, and asks if I want her to walk on my back beforeshe leaves. It couldn't hurt, so I say sure. She starts walking on my lower back, when suddenly I can feel her heel move a bone that's sticking out where it shouldn't be. She applies a little more pressure and POP, the bone slides backwhere it's supposed to be. It sounds a little disgusting, but at that moment it was pure heaven.

My back is a lot better now, my main problem being that my back is a little sore from 3 days of taut muscle. But at least I can sit upright! Woo hoo!

Of course, this means I can never get rid of Gina. She's my personal little chiropractor now.

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Stormy Weather

09.27.2002

I usually avoid weather on the news. The majority of time it seems like hype to make the weatherman feel important. With Tropical Storm (or was it actually a hurricane?) Isadore hitting shore, it was time for the weathermen to feel important.

The only problem was, all we got was a lot of rain. Maybe it's just me, but being 340 miles inland, I don't usually expect a lot from a hurricane. Some rain. Some wind. Maybe a couple of hundred tornado watches, but that's pretty muchit. Last night one of the channels had a reporter in the field who kept referring to Isadore as Isa-dud. They best they could do was "We've had a lot of rain, and a tree fell in Decatur" followed by about 20 shots of the tree as they talked about how nothing was happening.

Next we'll be getting warnings when a chunk of ice slides off an iceburg at the North Pole. But that would be just silly, wouldn't it?

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My Customer Service Message

09.26.2002

With ResGen now officially closed (as far as the doors are concerned), a lot of my friends are now, and have been, hitting the pavement looking for new jobs. It is with them in mind that I point you to
Monster.com's Resume Bloopers, or "Spelling Mistakes To Look Out For".

As anyone who's ever read anything I've written can attest to (and you count as one, because you're reading this now), I'm not a very good spellchecker.

But since that's kind of boring, did you know you can get arrested if you refuse to stop having sex on the subway in New York? What's the world coming to?

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New Neighbors... Soon?

09.25.2002

About a month ago I noticed that one of the houses behind me was up for sale. I didn't think much about it. When I bought my house, it had been on the market for at least 3 months when I first looked at it, and it was another 3 months before I made an offer on it. These houses aren't exactly easy to find, either (for those of you that don't know, you have to go down a gravel drive that I share with 2 other houses before you reach my driveway). Over the years, I've come to enjoy it. Traffic is one of those things I don't have to worry about.

Sunday morning I get up and go on my weekly Wal-Mart run, and I notice a U-Haul in front of the house for sale. I look a little closer and see that the For Sale sign has changedinto a Sold sign. After the shockk that it sold so soon wore off, I started to wonder what kind of people baught the house? Is it one person or a family? Old or young? Migrant workers or Swedish Bikini Team? Will they be like the rest of us and never let you know that they are there, or will they manage to drive me away?

There's not enough stress in my life, so obviously I have to manufacture some.

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My Mr. Peepers

09.24.2002

When Jerry got his dog, I was obliged to give him (the dog, not Jerry) a nickname by which I would call him. I've done it with all of Jerry's pets. His cats Abbey and Minuet I call Bumperhead and Zebracakes. It's not questioned, it's just a thing I do.

When Jerry got his dog Linus, I instead started calling him Mr. Peepers, which quickly evolved into Peepers for short. Everyone but me calls him Linus. I call him Peepers.

After much obedience training and practice, Peepers has learned to sit, stay, and lots of other good and obedient actions. Especially not to jump up on people.

Until Uncle Russ shows up.

The other day I went over and Jerry was practicing with Peepers. "Linus.Stay." Peepers obediently stays. "Sit." Peepers obediently sits. Jerry walks away about 20 feet. "Linus, come." Peepers hops up and trots over to Jerry. He's a good puppy!

But then I want to see how well I've taught him.

Me: Jer, try it again.
Jer: Ok. <looking at Peepers> Linus, sit.
Linus: <sits>
Me: <whispering> Peepers
Linus: <looks at me, starts to get up>
Jer: Linus... Sit!
Linus:<looks at Jer, sits back down. Looks back at me. Tail starts wagging. Finally can't stand any more, jumps up and runs over to me>
Me:That's my Peepers! <vigorously scratches Peepers>

Now that Jer has a daughter, the fun is only beginning!

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