Physical Terrorists

I broke my wrist skating in October.  A young guy, Knight, on a hockey team I was subbing for also got injured.  He REALLY loves hockey and is using every rationalization he can think of to get back on the ice.   He cracked me up when commiserating about his Physical Therapy experience.  With a torn ACL in the knee, 6 months recuperation is standard before lacing up the skates again.  He was 'upset' when his therapist didn't go along with his suggestion that 6 weeks was enough.  (And this is his second time wrecking that knee---)  Here are some of his comments:

“For PT, I go to Dr. Mengele’s House of Pain.  My therapists:  Dream Crusher, Dream Slayer, Pain Bringer, Dr. NO, Iron Maiden…Need more names?  There’s a better one I can’t print.

“Their pain isn’t so much physical as the mental anguish. They set you up and then pull the rug out from under you.  ‘Yes, Mr. Jenson, you can play sled hockey—it looks safe…On second thought, no.  So sorry.  Have a nice day.  Want to make a donation, though, for disabled kids that can play?’  I wanted to try curling, but the Dream Crusher PT lady killed that idea.  Maybe I’m doomed to bowling…no, I guess NOT; Dr. NO says that causes lateral motion across the knee. They suggest I take up painting...

“You see?! That’s the problem with the health care industry.  They think THEY know best and they take all your money.  I’d be fine playing now and having fun.  My knee feels great, I’d have pads on, I’m careful, and lucky.” (Did I mention this is his second ACL tear?)  “In fact, playing hockey would make me heal faster.”  (Good try!)

He should quit his job and become a health care reform lobbyist for disgruntled athletes.

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I gave him a preview of the above blog and here is his rebuttal:

“You didn’t really write it in the best way to endear sympathy from the readers.  This disturbs me.  We’ll have to work on that.  Here are the items in my defense:

1.     It wasn’t 6 weeks until I requested to skate again, it was as much as 46 days.

2.    Yes, it’s my second ACL tear, but did you know it isn’t a complete tear?  I still had a few fibers left this time.

3.  . (Some arbitrary statement in my defense goes here.  I’ll insert it when I think of it.)"

Okay, okay, I think this hockey junkie IS actually ready to play.  At least for the stick handling part—his car got stuck in the 17” snowstorm we just got blasted with and, when the curved shovel didn’t fit under the car, he was “finally able to free myself with..... a hockey stick, of course!  Gosh I love the sport!”

Speak softly and carry a big (hockey) stick.
©2011, Jana B. Patrick

Eating Mold Spores

My daughter, Lauren, asked, “Why would anyone consider this food?  Who ever thought of eating it in the first place?!” She thinks broccoli looks just like mold spores.  Even though I made the kids eat it almost every week of their lives, it doesn't seem to ever catch on. 

I  Googled the vegetable online and one site said, “There are actually many different delicious ways to prepare the vegetable with the alluring green stalk and bushy top.”   See, Lauren?  I just haven’t found out those many different delicious ways.  I’ll work on it.

Botanically speaking, broccoli belongs to the cabbage family.  I’m afraid that kinship won’t help sell Lauren on the concept of eating the alluring green vegetable.

Here’s why you SHOULD eat broccoli:  High in vitamin C and vitamin A(Beta-carotene); good source of calcium, potassium, folic acid; fiber-rich;  helps prevent Alzheimer’s, diabetes, cancers, arthritis, aging, cataracts, heart disease and helps control high blood pressure and because your mom said so.

Here’s why you SHOULD NOT eat broccoli:  Looks like mold spores.


I love you, Lauren!
©2011, Jana B. Patrick           

“For Better or Worse”

It’s Steve’s birthday week and I’m reminded of what a good sport he always is!  Take for example back in 2004 when the girls and I really wanted to go to Washington state and rent a recreational vehicle.  After two such previous vacations, another RV trip didn't register high on Steve’s ‘fun’ scale, but coax him into it we did.  One day he found a spot that he thought looked good to pull the 26 foot beast over on the side of the road so the kids could swim in a beautiful, deep, seemingly pristine lake—until he spotted a 'NO SWIMMING' sign saying  there was a suspected dead body in the H2O.  Without telling the girls why we hustled them out of the water, Alana, who was 12, bent over, picked something up off the beach and smiled.  “Look!  Someone must have had a picnic!  I found a chicken bone!”  eeeuuuggghhhh.

Later in the week Steve attached the sewage hose to the RV, cranked it open just as he remembered that he hadn’t put the other end into the septic hole in the ground…While cleaning up the putrid mess, he leaned forward singeing his hair on the hot water heater exhaust.  Along with a crowd of other folks, he went to check in at our next campground unshaven, sweaty, with melted hair, and smelling like you-know-what and, frankly, no one in the RV community seemed to think he wasn’t just one of the guys.

Isn’t he sweet?!                                                                                 ©2011, Jana B. Patrick

The Leaky Calderon

Our friend Diane was recounting the story of when her husband Greg was out of town and the toilet was leaking all over the floor.  I'm so impressed with Diane--she's my hero!  Without even calling him, much less a plumber, she turned off the water, dismantled the toilet, lifted the vile, heavy thing and put it into the tub.
"Why did you put it in the tub, Diane?" interrupted my husband Steve.
"Where else would you put a toilet?" she smiled.
Continuing with her tale she tells of scraping the old crusty wax ring off the floor drain and replacing it with a fresh new one. (How did she know about 'wax rings'???)  Then after hoisting the toidy out of the tub, she realized that the loud scraping sound she heard when putting it in the tub had done some pretty severe damage to the fiberglass.  So her husband got home and had to replace the tub. But the toilet doesn't leak a drop!
©2011, Jana B. Patrick