This is a special post as it will most likely be my last before leaving for Ghana.
I'd like to keep this simple, so there are three things I want to tell you about.
1.) I'm almost done packing. I have 2 years of life contained in a large wheely suitcase and a large backpack. I've made countless checklists, but I think I've finally got everything I need, including a 10" saute pan, wash clothes knitted by mom, 2 year supply of feminine products, knee length skirts, a ton of bandaids, and a quotebook. I also have a journal to write down all the really good stuff that I don't want to post online.
2.) I will definitely miss some stuff. You know what I just decided that I will miss ALOT? Getting my teeth cleaned every 6 months by Debbie at Dr. Cummings's office. Best dental hygienist/ denist ever. Other things I will miss include Bear the Dog, Heinz ketchup, any and all malbecs, the Indianapolis Colts, air conditioning, rhubarb, El Nopal, harassing Jackson, JPP, Taco the Chicken.... I won't even begin to launch into a list of the people I will miss :|
3.) You should stop reading now if you either:
A. Don't know my family at all,
B. Get weirded/ grossed out easily,
C. or Have never had a pet.
This Memorial Day weekend we had a wonderful get-together at Dad's house. Mom came over, Annie and Melena came, Caleb was there, Tito and Henry even came down for the festivities. We were only missing Smudge. It was such a fun evening.. We had a bonfire in the backyard, played latterball, roasted wienies, drank wine, and cremated Ulysses.
WHAT???
Ulysses was my pet python, whom I received as a gift when I was 11 years old. I love reptiles, snakes in particular. He lived in a nice, comfortable terrarium in our house, ate rodents, and like to go on walks up and down the stairs. Ulysses lived a lovely life, and passed away at age 12 this past winter. When an animal - human or other - dies, you have two options: burial or cremation. In a conversation with my brother Wesley the day after Ulysses's passing, we decided that the only funeral appropriate for an 8 foot python would be a funeral pyre. For some sick and yet unknown reason, everyone else was game to the idea. It was a frigid snowy winter day though, so his funeral had to be postponed. So we put Ulysses outside in the deep freezer.
Our story resumes this past weekend at the family's Memorial Day celebration, when the fire is burning bright and incredibly hot. Dad retrieved Ulysses from the freezer and placed him in his plastic garbage bag coffin on top the raging bonfire. The group stoked the pyre and watched in fascination as Ulysses's body incinerated. [And no, it didn't really smell at all.] We finally retired inside to play a game of Balderdash. The next morning, the fire ring contained nothing but a pile of powdery grey ashes littered with bright white vertebrae and ribs.
And there you have it: a serpentine cremation. Rest in peace, Ulysses.
31 May 2011
08 May 2011
My Gastrocnemius
Disclaimer: This story is completely unrelated to Ghana, but this my blog, so whatever.
My calf has incurred more physical trama in the last few weeks than a person's calf should ever in an entire lifetime.
The first incident... it was one drizzly April morning after a big storm the night before. I was leaving the house to head to work. If you've never been to my house, you must understand that I have a very long driveway; the house is in the middle of a country block. So, I drove past the fields, around the corner, and by the woods where the honeysuckle and blackberries grow... there is was. There was a large tree down across the driveway, that I suppose was knocked down the evening before in the storm. It was blocking almost the entire width of the driveway and was approximately 22 inches in diameter. In addition to the larger log blocking my way, there were also 2 smaller trees (or maybe they were originally part of the big tree, there is no telling) across the driveway approximately 8 inches in diameter.
What happened at this point in the story I cannot explain. I got my gym clothes out of the back, changed right there in the driveway, and had at the logs. I decided first to take on the smaller logs. So I picked up the end of one over my should and started dragging it to the edge of the driveway and into the woods. Success. I approached the other smaller log. It was Y-shaped. I went about removal in the same way, but this time when I got it to the edge of the driveway, I dropped it. I dropped it right on my left calf. A little nub of the log got me in the calf like I've never been gotten before. So I sat down and inspected my wound. 1) It was awesome, 2) My calf hurt like heck.
The second incident... Our story continues some 2.5 weeks later, when I decided to go for a harmless run, a route I've run so many times before. From Dad's house to the old grave yard is approximately 1.5 miles, so roundtrip you get a nice 5k. I run down the road, over the interstate, and toward the graveyard. At this point I'm on pace to run a 22 minute 5k. I was feeling good. In my ears, I had on LMAFO... Loud. Which was partially the problem, because then it happened. With no warning what-so-ever, a sharp stinging pain hit my left calf. I turned back to see a big angry yellow dog, unclamp its yapper from my poor tattered calf. I thought, "Are you kidding, this means I have to stop running." Then the blood started. Also, my blood looks like cherry Kool Aid, like in a grade D horror film (see below). I hobbled to the nearest house, a nice old lady took me inside and cleaned up my leg. Whatever she used was blue, smelly, and stung worse than "Jakey"s fangs. Then we got in her boat-sized black Caddy and she drove me home.
I might have bled all over her kitchen floor, but her damn dog ruined my run. And my calf. This thing is going to be sore for another 2 weeks. I am POed!
My calf has incurred more physical trama in the last few weeks than a person's calf should ever in an entire lifetime.
The first incident... it was one drizzly April morning after a big storm the night before. I was leaving the house to head to work. If you've never been to my house, you must understand that I have a very long driveway; the house is in the middle of a country block. So, I drove past the fields, around the corner, and by the woods where the honeysuckle and blackberries grow... there is was. There was a large tree down across the driveway, that I suppose was knocked down the evening before in the storm. It was blocking almost the entire width of the driveway and was approximately 22 inches in diameter. In addition to the larger log blocking my way, there were also 2 smaller trees (or maybe they were originally part of the big tree, there is no telling) across the driveway approximately 8 inches in diameter.
What happened at this point in the story I cannot explain. I got my gym clothes out of the back, changed right there in the driveway, and had at the logs. I decided first to take on the smaller logs. So I picked up the end of one over my should and started dragging it to the edge of the driveway and into the woods. Success. I approached the other smaller log. It was Y-shaped. I went about removal in the same way, but this time when I got it to the edge of the driveway, I dropped it. I dropped it right on my left calf. A little nub of the log got me in the calf like I've never been gotten before. So I sat down and inspected my wound. 1) It was awesome, 2) My calf hurt like heck.
The second incident... Our story continues some 2.5 weeks later, when I decided to go for a harmless run, a route I've run so many times before. From Dad's house to the old grave yard is approximately 1.5 miles, so roundtrip you get a nice 5k. I run down the road, over the interstate, and toward the graveyard. At this point I'm on pace to run a 22 minute 5k. I was feeling good. In my ears, I had on LMAFO... Loud. Which was partially the problem, because then it happened. With no warning what-so-ever, a sharp stinging pain hit my left calf. I turned back to see a big angry yellow dog, unclamp its yapper from my poor tattered calf. I thought, "Are you kidding, this means I have to stop running." Then the blood started. Also, my blood looks like cherry Kool Aid, like in a grade D horror film (see below). I hobbled to the nearest house, a nice old lady took me inside and cleaned up my leg. Whatever she used was blue, smelly, and stung worse than "Jakey"s fangs. Then we got in her boat-sized black Caddy and she drove me home.
I might have bled all over her kitchen floor, but her damn dog ruined my run. And my calf. This thing is going to be sore for another 2 weeks. I am POed!
I don't go running in my Nikes... I go bleeding.
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