So I’ve decided to dedicate part of my life to writing solely about a man who I love and adore very dearly, and who provides me with literally constant entertainment: my father-in-law Larry.

Now Larry is a retired school teacher.  He worked very hard for 30 years teaching English to high school students, and he’s a really smart guy.  I can’t even imagine doing his job, and I certainly can’t imagine doing it for THIRTY years, so I have the utmost respect for this guy.  (So I won’t even be remotely offended if he decides to read this and critique my grammar and/or punctuation.)  Since retiring, Larry has expanded his horizons, which has provided me (and well, the entire family) with a vast warehouse of entertaining and comedic nuggets.  Here, I offer just one of those nuggets.

Larry, being the hip cat that he is (and I’m not even kidding…he’s not someone you’d look at and think “retiree”), has one of the latest cell phones (complete with Rolling Stones ringtone, mind you).  Soon after learning how to send text messages, he realized the beauty of abbreviations in his own unique way, resulting in the following exchange on a road trip with his wife Linda and two of their friends.

Larry [aloud]: “Hey I can even abbreviate my name.”  

Larry sends the following text to Linda: “Larri”

Linda, texting back to Larry: “Idiot.”

There is a bottomless source of material here.  I’m telling you.  I just can’t write it fast enough.

posted on March 10th, 2008 under Larri | 3 Comments

What are the ODDS that the one time I’m on crutches in nearly 15 years that I will be in a building that must be evacuated due to a fire?  Not a drill mind you, but a real fire.  You’d think they’d be low.  I mean, seriously.

So I’m at work yesterday afternoon, probably about 15 minutes before I would have normally gathered up my stuff to head out, and there’s some commotion several cubicles away.  One of my co-workers comes up to me and says “well you must not be in the garage today since you can’t drive, right?”  Uh, NO.  I’ve got a car down there…it’s just that my husband is the one that’s driving it while I’m one-footed.

Apparently there was a fire in our parking gargage.  And APPARENTLY at some point our building was supposedly evacuated, however, no alarm ever sounded on our floor.  I got up and hobbled over to where I could look out of the windows on the South side of our building, and I could see smoke.  Lots of smoke.  So I decided alarm or not, I needed to start figuring out how the hell I was going to get out.  We never received any word on whether it was safe to stay or not, and then folks just started taking matters into their own hands and telling people to leave.  It was a little chaotic and very disconcerting. 

So another one of my co-workers basically refused to let me go alone - and bless her heart - she stayed with me for the long slow “walk” (more like a hop) down seven flights of concrete stairs.  When we got to the bottom, both my bad foot and my left leg (from doing a half squat to lower me onto each stair) were throbbing in pain.  The conceirge from the hotel in my building saw me coming down the last few stairs and came over immediately to make sure I was okay. 

The hotel conceirge and my co-worker helped me get outside of the building and to a bench where I could sit and call my husband so that he could find me.  As I sat there in a pretty fair amount of pain, I started to get mad.  It seemed to me like pretty much everyone else in the entire complex had been notified about this fire and safely evacuated FAR earlier than anyone on my floor.   And if we WERE NOT supposed to evacuate our floor (which would have made sense because it probably would have been way safer to stay upstairs), then I’d LOVE to know why the hell nobody told us this.  Instead we were left guessing about how long we should wait:  until the WHOLE building is engolfed in smoke or until it actually FEELS hot enough for a fire to be burning?  Hmmm…

My husband found me and waited with me until we could figure out whether our car was affected by this fire - which apparently was burning (or at least smoking) in the parking garage below the building.  About 15 minutes later, the “all clear” was given and people started heading back into the building.  And as it turned out - after waiting in the hotel lobby for another 45 minutes for the crowd of people heading for the garage to dissipate - our car was thankfully unaffected.

But seriously?  WHAT are the odds?  Good grief.  I wonder what’s next.

posted on March 7th, 2008 under The Rants | 1 Comment

So I’m new to the whole blogging thing.  Quite obviously.   I figured the best way to start is well, with my observation of the day - lame as it might be.

Two weeks ago today I had a bunion removed.  And while I didn’t have a whole lot of knowledge about bunions before I knew I had to have one removed, I at least knew that a) it involved surgery and b) it’s supposedly a fairly painful procedure (and it is).  However, I’m amazed at the wide variability in reactions that I’ve been getting - because now I’m back at work and have become the latest freak show.   The thing about being the freak show du jour, is how wildly entertaining it is to see how different people react.

So as an aside - removing a bunion involves breaking a bone in the foot, typically removing a chunk of it (although not always required - called an osteotomy) and then reattaching the broken bone with a pin.  There are several methods involved…some require the breaking/shortening of one or more of the other toes, and sometimes bunions must be removed from both the “big toe” and “little toe” side of the foot at the same time.  Who knew it was all of this business?  I happened to be lucky, and only needed the basic bunionectomy and osteotomy on my right big toe.  

 I’m also lucky that it went really well.

So when I came back to work on crutches, the immediate reaction I got from most people (well, those that assumed my time off involved a sunny vacation somewhere) was “Oh no!  What happened?” 

Sigh.

When I reply to these reactions with “I had foot surgery,” I get all kinds of grave yet compassionate looks and well wishes.  When I reply with “I had a bunion removed,” I typically (though not always) get “Uh…and you’re on CRUTCHES for that?”  (Yeah asshole, I’m on crutches.  There’s a friggin PIN in my foot and guess what, it HURTS right now!!)  For some reason “foot surgery” has a sporty and youthful connotation.  “Bunion” unfortunately, has this gross and dirty stigma.  What’s up with that?

These bastards should see this thing unwrapped!

posted on March 5th, 2008 under The Rants | 3 Comments