Another Boring Entry sponsored by iPhone.

Hi y'all. I had Friday off, so woo, long weekend! Kenny and I decided to start the day off right with a giant diner breakfast, so we drove over to the local diner and I took photos.

Here's a really cute tiny office building tucked into the shopping center:


And here's our final destination:


And our BREAKFAST:


Nom. (Claudia, the bacon is a figment of your imagination.)

After all that we went for a bike ride so we don't end up being filmed from the neck down for the next local news segment about obesity. (Have you ever thought how horrible it would be to be watching the news and see YOURSELF being used as a prime example of how fat America is? I would die. I wish they wouldn't do that to people. Anyway, digression.)

Here I am on the trail in my new Twin Six jersey. I'm not sure why I'm making that face. Probably bacon-related.


After the ride I got to hang out with my friend Ashley who was in town from Chicago. Sadly, I didn't take any photos of her but I did make her nearly vomit with laughter by telling her all about my mother's complete obsession with Ad@m L@mbert. Hand to God, she bought TWO issues of the Rolling Stone magazine with him on the cover. Oh, Mom.

Later we did a little shopping and managed to fill giant bags full of bulk-bin candy from For the Love of Chocolate (aka the best store in town.) I swear to God, it's like I WANT to be on the local news or something. Still, where else can you get gummis shaped like chicken feet?

On Saturday I went out to my sister's house to celebrate Red's birthday and also my sister's birthday. Red actually smiled for a photo, but only when I begged:


The cake was a masterpiece:


Bunny cake! My mother gave my sister a copy of Ad@m LAmbert's CD for her birthday. See, I cannot make this shit up.

On Sunday I crawled across the lawn to get this photo of a real live bunny in our front yard:


I was literally belly down, crawling on my hands and knees to get a photo of a rabbit. I could probably go to PetSm@art and see some rabbits up close but this one was super-cute and in my front yard! I never get tired of the bunnies.

On Sunday I also hung out with my dad for a bit and also did some more bike-related nonsense. And then a fair amount of this kind of thing:




Big surprise. The End.

In Which Something Happened.

I'm sorry, did I say it has been boring around here lately and nothing had happened? My mistake. MY MISTAKE. Don't say stuff like that because if you do things will start happening and by things I don't mean that a Hermes truck will accidentally dump a load of handbags outside your house and not notice. (God, that would be fantastic, though, right?) I mean that things will happen. Events will force you to be an adult and make decisions all by yourself that you hope are the right decisions.

So, here's what happened. Last Wednesday evening Nina and I went out to the country for our riding lesson. Everything was perfect - the weather was hot but overcast and we were eager to ride since our lesson the week before had been rained out. We saddled up and rode out to the field and started with some walk an trot practice to get warmed up. We then did a sitting trot with and without stirrups (ow) and then took turns cantering (whee!) After that we each practiced a dressage test, which is a very specific formation of moves that you would do as part of a three-day competition.

Dressage is really hard, because the idea is to make it look effortless, as if you and the horse are reading each other's minds. Ha. Really, the hardest part in riding again for me was the realization that two brains were at work instead of just one. The horses we ride are well schooled but they also know that we're amateurs and they'll definitely take advantage of the situation if they get tired of our bullshit.

After the dressage practice we took turns jumping over the little cross rails, trotting and cantering towards the jump and trying to line up perfectly so the horse would be straight on and jump through the middle. All rounds successful. Then our instructor, Kathy, raised one of the bars so it was straight across. Now, technically it wasn't really any higher - just even with where the bars had been at the end, but it looked high. It looked scary high. It was probably all of 2 feet off the ground, but the horses like to jump higher than that.

Nina begged me to go first and I did. Ticket loves to jump, so he cantered, he leapt, he didn't want to stop. Whee. Nina jumped and Hersey seemed to be in good form, cantering where he'd normally trot. I jumped again and then it was Nina's turn. She looped Hersey around and headed towards the jump, not quite straight, but there was still time to get straight before he jumped. That's when things went wrong.

At the last minute Hersey swerved out to the right of the jump and unseated Nina, then he stopped cold and she fell right off his right shoulder and hit the ground hard. She sat up briefly, said that her head hurt, and then lay back down on the ground, right between Hersey's legs. CRAP. I trotted over as quickly as I could without disturbing Hersey and dismounted. Kathy rushed over and we tried to quietly move him before he stepped on her. Nina sat up again and looked disoriented, but unhurt.

She finally stood up and walked to the edge of the field, seeming fine but definitely shaken up. She'd had a horse-riding-related concussion in high school and I knew she dreaded it happening again. Kathy took her back to the barn and I followed with the horses, concerned but not too worried at that point. It was scary to watch, but she wasn't bleeding and hadn't lost consciousness.

While I was in the barn dealing with the horses Kathy took Nina to a shady seat under the tree and got her a bottle of water. I walked over to check on her and she looked completely freaked out and confused.

"Can you tell me what happened? I don't even remember how I got here."

Oh shit. She started to cry and Kathy and I calmed her down. I got her husband Scott's phone number from her and walked away to call him, trying trying trying to stay calm. He agreed to meet me at her car (parked near work) and I managed to get Nina calm and get her in my car. By then I knew she had a concussion because she started asking me the same questions over and over again (a symptom called Perseverating, I found out later), like she was on a 3-minute memory loop. It would start with a few moments of silence and then,

"I'm afraid to say anything for fear that I'm repeating myself."

"It's okay, Nina."

"Can you tell me what happened?

"You had a fall off Hersey while jumping, but you're okay."

"And we're going to the hospital?"

"I'm taking you to Scott, he'll take you to the hospital."

Over and over and over again. occasionally she'd ask me what time it was or how long ago it had happened. She was pretty calm and seemed to feel okay, other than a headache and slight nausea. Still, I started to worry that I'd made the wrong decision. An ambulance probably would've taken too long to get out to the farm but maybe I should just take her straight to the hospital? In the end, that's what I did. I remembered where the nearest hospital was and took her to the emergency room, then called Scott to have him meet us there.

Sitting in the waiting room ramped things up considerably.

"I'm afraid to say anything for fear that I'm repeating myself."

"It's okay, Nina."

"Can you tell me what happened?

"You had a fall off Hersey while jumping, but you're okay."

"Have I been repeating myself?"

"A little bit, but that's totally normal."

"What time is it? When did this happen?"

"It's 7:30. It happened about 45 minutes ago."

"OH MY GOD. I don't remember anything!"

Then she'd lose it and cry because to her, this was freshly traumatic and new information. I'd try and calm her down and then a minute later the whole thing would happen again. Scott showed up and we tag-teamed her, jointly calming and answering, calming and answering. Scott started asking her about events that had happened earlier in the day or week and Nina had no memory of any of it, which upset her A LOT as you can imagine. we stopped doing that.

The doctor talked to her and she was taken for a CAT Scan and X-ray. She doesn't remember any of it, but I do. She was a complete trooper, because can you imagine finding yourself in a hospital and having no memory of what happened or how you got there? Now imagine that happening every three minutes. Terrifying.

I was fine, totally zen-like calm through the whole thing in the way you are when someone else is going through something traumatic. You just have to be. But once I got home I fell apart. I was so worried, so stressed, so freaked out and I hadn't been able to acknowledge any of those feelings until she was safe and in good hands. I didn't sleep very well that night, but the next day I went to the hospital and she looked so much better.

The CAT scan had come back clear which was a relief, but they kept her in the hospital for two more days, just to keep an eye on her. Apparently head injuries are cumulative, and because she'd had a bad concussion in high school, this one was worse. Unfortunately one more would be unthinkable, so she's not really allowed to ride anymore. It's heartbreaking, but not as heartbreaking as brain damage. Still, totally sucks.

Nina later said that it must have been way scarier for me and Scott, but honestly, she was really scared, she just doesn't remember it! She also doesn't remember promising to give me her Chanel bag, but I'm working on that one. Har.

Highly Cultured Morning Routine

In the morning while we eat our breakfast Kenny and I watch the Today Show for the important headlines and weather and when it disentigrates into fluff/tabloid fodder, we switch over to VH-1 Classics, an addiction I know I've discussed here before. If the video is unwatchable, I then switch over to the regular VH-1 to watch whatever manufactured crap is being pushed down the throats of today's youth. Commentary ensues:

(VH-1 Classics video: Eric Clapton circa 1988ish)

"Kenny, this is one video that could actually use a goofy 80's story line."

"Wow. It's...boring."

"Yeah. Nothing like watching paint dry. Paint in a slouchy scrunched-sleeve duster coat."

"I guess it's a good song though."

"Snzzzz...wha?"

(VH-1 video: Lady G@ga, Poker Face)

stunned silence

"Can you believe she's 22 years old? She could be 16...Or 38."

"You know, anyone could be singing this. Just anyone."

"True, but they had to find someone with the right look...who is willing to walk around in public without pants."

(video, George Michael, Father Figure)

"YES! Kenny, TURN THIS UP."

"Wow. How could anyone not have known he was gay?"

"Totally. Wait! I love this part. The model gets mad and cheats with the fashion photographer. Then she throws her lipstick and says 'fuck' into the mirror. You can't hear it, but that's totally what she's saying."

"Yeah, honey. Okay."

"Look at him almost not cringing while kissing that model. He clearly loves p*ssy."

Snort  

"'Wake Me Up Before you Go-Go' should have been the tipoff."

"Gayest video ever. It's my favorite. I seriously love it. I do."

"I know you do, honey."

(video: unknown current band)

"Who is that? I think I might like this song."

"Maybe the Killers? I think it might be the Killers."

"No, I don't think so. But I like it...probably because it sounds just like the Killers."

"Huh. The Airborne Toxic Event? Seriously? Kids today."

(video: Morningw0od)

"Blarrr! Morningw0od? Ugh, stupidest name ever."

"Douche rock! Woo!"

I wander off to finish getting dressed. Kenny changes the channel back to VH-1 Classics and I hear the something in the classic-southern-rock genre.

"Dirty hippies..."

"Really? Which ones?"

The End

Hair Apparent.

Sorry, that's a terrible pun. But yeah, I got my hair cut today and sadly that's the most exciting thing that's happened to me in a while. It pretty much looks the same as it did before I got it cut but it's sharper and shinier:

No matter how I try I can't ever seem to make it look quite as sleek as my stylist does. The salon where I go is pretty nice (despite my having had a really bad experience the first time I ever walked in the door) but the receptionist is crazy. She's got those swirly eyes and I should have expected it, but she covers really well. I used to think she was super duper nice - she always remembered my name and that I make jewelry, and she's very VERY VERY VERY FRIENDLY. SO FRIENDLY. Warning, right?

So one day I had a conflict and realized I wouldn't be able to make my appointment the next day, so I called her to reschedule. She went from super duper friendly! to COLD CRAZY BITCH in one second flat. You would have thought I'd called up to tell her that I was currently ransacking her apartment and holding her dog for ransom. She was not pleased and made sure I knew it. Rescheduling was tough because apparently my stylist didn't have any openings for the rest of the year. Oh wait, I guess maybe this 9am Tuesday appointment is open if I could deign to find time in my CLEARLY TOO BUSY SCHEDULE.

Wah! Don't hurt me! I've been wary of her ever since.

Which is why I patiently stood at the front desk waiting to pay for a full ten minutes while she took care of what was clearly a personal phone call. She did that silent "Ooh, so sorry! One sec!" squinchy face thing at me and I just smiled gently and stayed quiet because I was afraid she'd strangle me with the phone cord if I tried to interrupt.

I know there are some people who would be all, oh no she didn't! about this but honestly, those people either a) carry guns or b) have already been killed by crazy receptionists. I really don't like baiting the crazy so I just lay low and accept the bad customer service. Clearly my life depends on it.

Medieval Times

I'm lame, sorry. It's just that nothing has happened. Really, no crazy people have assaulted me, I haven't had any craft shows, I've been sleeping like a champ, I got my new toof, my riding lesson was rained out, I GOT NOTHING.

Wait, that's not quite true. As mentioned in my last entry, which apparently only two people read, I did recently inherit an iPhone and it has a camera! (Yes, sadly, my actual cellphone is so low tech that it doesn't even have a shitty camera. I mean, what cellphone these days doesn't have a shitty camera?) But my iPhone does and it's turned me into an asshole. I'll take photos of anything. Because I can! Really, it's just stupid. Here's a sampling of photos I currently have stored in my iPhone (which, I should again mention, I'm not actually using as a phone, so I should just call it something else.) Anyway:

kenny. he didn't want his picture taken. too bad.

dinner! it's what's for dinner.

fuzz. she didn't want her picture taken. too bad.

proof that I was really busy last month.

Wow. That was even more boring than I thought. There was another picture of a really gross and sweaty me posing with the lovely and pet-able horse Ticket, but I just couldn't do it. I look seriously disgusting in that photo and I'm sure you'd all thank me for NOT including it.

So, the weekend approaches. I hope to spend some time tomorrow shirking my duties and then spend some time Sunday making up for it, ie clean the sty. Last night at dinner Kenny spilled a beer (gah! Not the beer!) and when I was helping to wipe it up I accidentally wiped a bit under the edge of the couch and a horrifying clot of dust and cat hair came billowing out. I was so grossed out. How do mere mortals keep up with this stuff?

And when do people find the time to mop? I can (obviously) barely keep the place vacuumed, much less actually clean the floors. Kenny and I were talking last weekend about getting an area rug for the living room but I really think we could save our money by buying a bundle of rushes and strewing them about like in medieval times. Just give up all pretense of clean, you know? Fuck it. Rushes for everyone! Don't worry about scraping your plate, just toss it out there and the rats will do the rest. Hey, if it was good enough for the Middle Ages, it's good enough for us.