Herban Sprawl

Last night BK and I motored to the Independent Republic of Salem for the annual Christmas fais do-do at a lawyer friend’s office. It was a really nice party - great food (catered, no less!) and a lot of imbibement material. There were people we knew from where I used to work, and among the lawyer types was BGF.

I missed the Greatest Realtor of Them All. He didn’t stick around. Rumor has it there was a single woman in the place and he got out of Dodge. G.R. did that once and he isn’t getting himself all entangled again, bless him’s lil heart. But I am mad that he didn’t stay long enough for a Christmas hug! (He’s a great hugger!)
Anyway, we partied for a while, ate a lot of goodies and I didn’t even get past my personal limit for imbuzzment. When we left, however, I forgot there was a drop-off of the paved parking lot and the red rocky junk they use for mulch. (This was in a private parking lot not belonging to aforementioned nice guy lawyer type.) Naturally, Signora Klutzolo’s foot found that drop off thing, her ankle turned and she went down on bad knee. However the ache and pain wasn’t in the bad knee, it was in the bad knee’s ankle and the good knee.

The only thing I was worried about were my pants. I figured the rest of me would mend, sooner or later. It always does.

Once home, pants were examined and found to be A) clean, and B) unharmed. I was thrilled. Then I checked my good knee. Slightly abraded. No biggie. Then I saw this bump on my bad knee. It looked like one of Alice’s saddle sores from when she was on a training trip in the Grand Canyon! Ugggg-leeeee.

I whined because I knew BK was gonna ice me down. I hate ice. I hate ice. I hate ice. I took my aspirin, settled in on the sofa so I could watch the rest of my Claudette Colbert movie, and braced myself. BK couldn’t find his ace bandage. The man is a huge fan of strapping down ice bags with his ace bandage. I thought I was off the hook. No such luck. The bump was sticking out through my pajama bottoms. It was gonna be the Ice Man Cometh no matter what.

He found the ace and froze my ankle first. Luckily I had on a fat sock. He propped up my ankle and afixed the ice bag. I couldn’t have wiggled out if my life depended on it. I hate ice. I hate ice. I hate ice. There I remained. He then wandered off without turning on my movie, the Ice Nazi!
Here’s the thing. I am a klutz. I have been a klutz my entire life. I’m one of those people whose mother was a pragmatist and all she required of me was a gentlewoman’s C in P.E. class. As I type, I’m wearing a beaut of a bruise on my right saddlebag, the result of walking into something, but I forget what. I vaguely remember it was Friday because the House Goddess was here and she broke up when I started swearing. “Girlfren, whatchu do?”

For me the stumble off the asphalt and crash is nothing new or out of the ordinary. The week after I got my new glasses, I was on my way up the front walk when I missed the step and went down on my face. Luckily my eye glass guy said it was covered and I got a new lens for free. I can trip UP steps more easily than most people and I’m really good at it. Usually the only thing that gets hurt is my pride.

But back to that party. So BGF decides to come clean and tell me about all the stuff that they have discovered to be wrong. Kidney stones, gall stones, liver lesions… he reckons he has enough rocks to pave a small parking lot. He’s not counting the ones in his head or he could upgrade, I feel certain.

We’re a little over a week away from his next birthday, and I slide right in a month later. Between his hip, my knee, his rocks, and my warm flashes, we might have one decent body between us. It’s a bum deal, I tell ya. My dad didn’t start falling apart until he was in his seventies. I’ve got young Dr. Mengele freezing my joints with his dastardly ice bag, and I’m beginning to wonder if I shouldn’t invest in one of those cute flowered canes. If nothing else I could use it to pull my knitting basket closer.

But it really was a great party. The holidays are so much fun! And the flamingo tree looks cute. The big tree is very bright and full of fun ornaments, and, oh, man, was that my elbow twinging?

A week later and our Christmas tree is finally finished. This was the year I needed to just start fresh with new lights - It took way too long and I was ready to forget having a tree, but then I finally got the last string pulled off and replaced and started hanging the ornaments.

In years past, I’ve had some stellar help in doing the tree, but when they started hanging the ornaments, I got crabby. It isn’t that the team wasn’t any good at hanging ornaments. I just needed to unwrap and hang each one in order to remember the wonderful people who had given us the piece. There are also the ones that the kids made for me. I hang them together, and now I have a few more from the itty bitties that are so precious.

And so it goes -  the little sailboat I bought in Duluth, the ones that came from Andersonville in Chicago, the bluegrass angels, the Bill Clinton sax, the moose from Boulder, the ones Lori had made for me at Neiman’s, the cat ornaments, the hearts, the ones I made, the ones my sister made, the ones that were made by friends, the little wooden German toys, the Steinbach la Befana, the Kirsch peddler, and the silver sleigh bells with their beautiful chimes.

Boxes of ornaments that represent the people, places and events of a very interesting life - they come out once a year and are enjoyed and treasured for a month. Many thanks to all who have put their mark on the tree. You will never be forgotten and your contribution will always be remembered with a huge smile.

Yesterday Shannon came by to help me get the Christmas green stuff out of the locker, then she gave me moral support as I began putting up stuff. In the middle of unpacking the box of nutcrackers, she got a call - a job offer! Needless to say, she jumped on it and was a very happy lawyer indeed.

It was crummy when the budget cuts made her an unemployed person, but I have to admit, BGF and I have made ample use of her spare time! Between us, she’s been kept hopping, and starting next week, we are out of luck! Eegad!

I don’t get to spend spare, casual time with #1 Niece and Nephew. It’s a trip that has to be planned and coordinated in advance. That’s the bad thing about distance and families. Luckily, Big Kitty and I have been adopted by a handful of very bright, and very with-it young people. Big Kitty just learned that Shannon is a football expert. They really don’t like the same teams, but she knows her stuff. I’m content to sit nearby and do my needlework while they call the plays and complain about the mess ups.

I was thinking the other day that the little niece and nephew really haven’t had the opportunity to hang out with us except for on those brief trips and I wondered how much of our craziness would rub off on them! (I had my opportunity to corrupt the two elder ones, but they were so well brought up I didn’t have the heart!) For Shannon and the others, our house tends to be a source of great entertainment - we’re always into something, or avoiding getting into something, or just having a nice cup of tea. It’s never dull around here, which is probably why it’s a nice place to drop by.

The nice thing about Shannon’s new job is that she will be back in town, so we can continue to pester her - just not at the drop of a hat like we do now. Naturally, given the state of the economy, we’re pleased she gets to go back to work!

Now I need to take a very deep breath so I have plenty of air for swearing when I climb back up to try to hang a garland over the bookcases!