Friday, May 11, 2007

Well then. A week gone by. Sorry to begin with banal statements, but I'm out of clever openings. Maybe next week the creative bug will strike me with vim and gusto. Perhaps not.

Hey, speaking of bugs (obviously I'm not out of clever segues), it's apparently wasp season again, and I'm not talking about white anglo-saxon protestants, either. Every spring, without fail, the little buggers congregate just outside our upstairs windows, and occasionally make the mistake of venturing in. Bugs are so stupid. You can fly in, but you can't fly out? Come on--navigation!

Anyway. I have a unique catch-and-release method for such pesky critters that I use when they come in. I'm not quite brave enough to attempt a killing--with my luck I'd miss and end up the victim of a wasp attack. I'm not allergic (as far as I know; don't really want to find out, either), but still, I'd rather not be stung multiple times. I don't think I'm out of line in that statement.

Gosh, today is the day of the tangent, apparently. Back to the topic at hand: I use a Tupperware container and a stiff piece of paper to trap them against the window and then throw them out. It works well, unless they're caught up in some craggy terrain, such as the windowsill. Then it's just the waiting game. Eventually, being the top-of-the-food-chain creature that I am, I outwit them. Ha! You may have a compound eye, but I've got a bigger brain, and opposable thumbs. Huzzah!

The upshot of this terribly long story is that I need to call someone about getting screens on my windows. I suppose I could have just typed that sentence much earlier and dispensed with the story, but hey, there's half my blog done already, so we're good.

Moving on. A couple weeks ago, I did some damage to my shoulder sleeping in that terrible bed we had in Three Hills (we moved off the floor and back onto the bed when everyone came over for grad weekend). It seems that I've somehow aggravated it in the moving process; my left shoulder was pretty much completely seized this morning when I woke up.

Actually, it had its genesis somewhere in the middle of the night. I remember having a dream in which I was shot in the back, and the pain I was feeling in real life entered my subconscious. Not that I'd know what it feels like to get a bullet in the back (knives, sure--it's part of the job in ministry--but not bullets), but I imagine it would be painful. And it was, even in dreamland.

I have a criteria for pain that is completely arbitrary and not based on any medical knowledge at all. I will bear it (with varying degrees of fortitude) as long as it doesn't hamper my abilities to get a good night's sleep. Last night, the criteria was defeated. I woke up this morning and could barely move. My first stop (at 6:30 when I woke up from my shooting dream) was the medicine cabinet for some ibuprofen; the next was my doctor's office. My doctor shares the office with two other doctors (used to be three, but this morning, the new guy's name wasn't on the door anymore. In situations like that, I really want to ask, but I probably need to go through back channels, just in case things ended badly or something. That's probably not necessary, but whatever), and they have drop-in hours every weekday before they open. The wait to get an appointment with my doctor is about two weeks. The wait in the morning is 30 seconds. I don't necessarily get to see my own doctor, but seriously, what do I care? As long as the person I see has gone to medical school and is reasonably competent (measured by whether or not they've shaved and showered that morning), I'm good.

The doctor I saw this morning told me that I have some damage to my rhomboid muscle, which sounds like a geometrical figure got into a horrible car wreck. He suggested a shot of long-lasting local anesthetic to dull the pain, and prescribed heavier-duty anti-inflammatory drugs that would guard my stash of ibuprofen (I was going through them at an alarming rate for the last few days). As much as I hate needles, I was willing to get this one; the pain was bad enough, and it was in my back, so I didn't feel it as much. Turns out that getting shot in the back isn't that bad at all.

Anyway. The drugs kicked in earlier today, providing sweet, if incomplete, relief. The pain is still there, it's just not kicking my pain receptors into overdrive every time I turn my neck. Which is really nice. The pharmacist said that the drugs will help the inflammation, which will help the body heal. I don't care as long as it works.

Other than that, nothing of great import. Took the boy (who is still teething like crazy) out for a bit of a walk this morning when he got overtired and mom was ready to throw him out the window. She had a bit of a tough morning--I went to the doctor's, the boy is teething and cranky, and mom-in-law's nerve pain was acting up again. She was the last bastion of health, and it wore her out. She slept while the boy and I went toodling around the neighbourhood.

He fell asleep just as I arrived back home, which meant a relatively painless transfer of sleeping child into his bed. And then he slept. And slept. And slept. His nap was a colossal three hours long, which is shocking and surprising. It got to the point where I had to open the door to make sure he was still breathing. I know he is, but I just need to feed that particular neurosis, I suppose. Ridiculous, but part of parenting.

He woke in a much better mood, I was happy to see. We ate a late lunch and then took another trundle around the neighbourhood. I'm working on losing some weight (all a part of my don't-just-talk-about-it-do-something-about-it philosophy), and walking is great for that, or so I hear. Plus, he just loves the outdoors so much that he'd be happy if we never went inside. We ended up at one of the local coffee shops that has a play area.

Where was mom? She was out getting her hair cut. Now, normally such insignificant news as this would not be reported in this space, but today was different. She cut it off. And it looks spectacular. For the last few years, she's been growing out her hair, more to just see what would happen than anything else. But it was time for a change, and being the adventurous risk-taker that she is, she decided a large change would be good. So now instead of "mom hair" (the kind that's always just tied up in a bun due to having a young kid around), she has a sexy, sophisticated do. Except only I'm allowed to think it's sexy. The rest of you, well, you can claim the "sophisticated" moniker. Deal?

Evening saw us scrounging for dinner ideas, as usual, and eventually settling on sushi. Oh gee, twist my arm some more. The sushi place in our neighbourhood is incredible, and we really missed it while we were gone. The boy is the star of the show there, too. The owner's wife dotes on him hand and foot, which is really funny. I think he'll probably grow up thinking that she's his Japanese god-mother or something. Maybe they'll pass the sushi knowledge on to him.

After that, we decided to rent a movie. We settled on "Night at the Museum," which we had heard was funny. Took a while to get going, but settled in nicely after about an hour or so. Ended well, if predictably, and generally made for a good night. I happen to think Ben Stiller is hilarious (and yes, I like Jim Carrey, too), and he didn't disappoint. The score was a little overly dramatic; another Alan Silvestri work that sounds a little bit too much like everything else he's done (Forrest Gump, Polar Express, Tomb Raider, etc), but hey, it was good. For some reason, Owen Wilson isn't in the credits, too, which was a nice little mystery.

That brings me to right now, blogging and fading fast. Hats off to you for coming by for another week of drivel; I appreciate the fact that you stop by, even though I get absolutely no tangible benefit from it, except your undying admiration. Or maybe that's just what I tell myself. Anyway, I don't know why you stop by (except because you're related to me), but hey, it's good to have you, and I hope you keep it up. See you next week.