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5:38 p.m. - 2012-05-29
Just another ordinary Tuesday.

Mick and I are falling apart. No, no. no, not our marriage, that's just fine, thanks. I mean physically. Old sports injuries flaring up, mostly. My rebuilt knee gave me a bunch of trouble this weekend. If it were any other body part I'd have shrugged it off and assumed I'd done something dumb I hadn't noticed at the time or taken it as just another sign of my advancing decrepitude. But that knee was a bugger to get reassembled and rehabilitated after I'd dislocated it and any time it goes wonky it sends me into a tizz. It's better now, thank goodness. A little achy when I wake up but otherwise okay. The swelling is gone and the joint has stopped shifting around and feels pretty solid again. Whew! Same deal with Mick's shoulder. He's been living with a torn rotator cuff for 20 years. Refused surgery on it then and refuses surgery on it still. Aside from having to give up racquet sports the bum shoulder doesn't interfere much with his daily life, but a couple days ago he strained it in the worst possible position and since then it's been a misery to him.

Plus there's the heat. Neither of us can do hot weather anymore. This weekend's sharp uptick in temperature and humidity slammed us hard. My poor mannie is back at work today and is in a swither over a possible showdown with the administration over Mick's outdoor assignments. Namely that when the temp is above 85 Mick is NOT going to stand in the shade-less broiling driveway amid noxious plumes of super-heated diesel exhaust from the school buses and direct traffic. There have been go-rounds about this before and the whole backstory is too much to get into here. Let's just say that compassion and common sense aren't strong suits with the Uber Sports School's administration. I've told Mick to try to stay calm and be quietly firm about opting out of traffic duty. Nowhere in his contract does it say heat stroke and sun poisoning are job requirements.

The long weekend was fun. No big special events. Did a little shopping yesterday. I needed summer clothes. I had none too many to begin with and have put on so much weight recently that what I did have doesn't fit. So. A couple pairs of shorts to bum around the house in. Some new t-shirts. And a very pretty swirly long skirt. My favorite boutique, Old Navy, was having a monster sale on summer clothes and came across with the bargains big time.

Speaking of my new rotunditude, I backed off from getting my hair cut. I couldn't go back to that severe spiky buzz. I simply have too much face these days. I need bigger hair to balance things out. Besides it was a complete bitch to let it get this long, I might as well explore some options before mowing it all back off. The bob is still bit soccer mom-ish but I'm working with it. Anyway, who would I be kidding here? I'm almost 50. I'm a menopausal tubby smug married who drives a 13 year old Ford Escort. I look and sound more like Bea Arthur every day. In the real world I left sexy and cool behind 5 years and 30 pounds ago. These days I'm fine if my husband still wants to pinch my butt and my looks don't frighten little kids at Shoprite.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Just back from Errand Day. Which today included one of my favorite places on Earth (not) the Verizon store. Yup. Another cell phone went kerflooey. This makes, what, four this year? It's always the same freakish thing with me being too electric or something. I can't use touchpads without a stylus (yes, I know about the hand lotion warning, but even if my hands are clean enough to perform surgery touchpads don't work for me) and as we've seen my cell phones simply self-destruct. I'm such a cell phone killer Wolf won't even let me use his. "Um, Mom? I love you and I'm sorry to be like this but I don't want you touching my phone ever. Okay? Please? Sorry." Frankly I don't blame him. I wouldn't let me use my cell phone either except I need to sometimes.

Anyway. The very nice boy at the Verizon store told me there was definitely something wrong with my phone but he didn't have the equipment to diagnose it. The Malltown store in the Galleria does though. He explained how to circumnavigate the evil pushy salespeople and speak directly to a tech guy. (There's a code word and a special knock on an unmarked door at the back of the store involved. Can't explain in any specific detail, I promised.) So when (if) I can get through to the tech guy I should have an answer about what the deal is with my newest dead cell phone. Like I don't know already. I have in the past tried to explain about the weird electric thing with me but the Verizon kids just look at me like I'm a crazy person so nowadays I simply let them jigger with it, decide the phone is toast and replace it under warranty. Then 3-4 months later I go through the process again. It's easier. There's no getting the Verizon kids to believe me and come up with some kind of super-grounded rubberized cell phone that I can't kill. This is mostly the reason I haven't moved over to a data plan and a smart phone. If I can't use touchpads and my phones commit suicide at least once a season why would I ever bother trying to upgrade? Signing up for a higher phone bill and a more expensive dead cell phone I had trouble using in the first place is just dumb.

Wolf and I handily avoided the pervy bread store lady this afternoon. For a while we stopped going to the Freihofer's outlet altogether but Wolf felt it was unfair to be denied his weekly donut fix just because some lecherous cashier had to say inappropriate things. Today she was stocking shelves so the kid and I grabbed our stuff and booked it for the register. I had my money at the ready and basically I just threw it at the girl, Wolf snagged our bag of baked goods and we ran. I had a giggle over how A Hard Day's Night the whole thing was, but was glad enough to have Wolf's back. Yes, I know the obvious solution is to leave Wolf in the car but in today's heat I wouldn't leave an enemy in the car let alone my beloved son.

Anyhoodle, tomorrow me and my new girth are waddling up to the mall and I'll see if I can get a new phone to kill.

Oh! Speaking of electronic glitches, Jim, Stepfie, and everybody else with Haloscan comments, my apologies. I still can't get the buggardly thing to let me leave a comment. I'm a technotard, what else can I say? Jim- congrats on the new shorter transitional work week and best of luck to Nancy with her schooling. Stepfie, you know you are a rockin' goddess even with the ginger hair and a slightly dented tit. Celia- tell your hubs to put a sock in it, you're dead on, crating a puppy 24/7 is fucking mean.


Time to get dinner on the table, gotta go. ~LA

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