Sunday, July 24th 2011
Monday Is Looking REAL Good

The other day I accidentally bumped into Caden-7yr and smashed him into the living room wall. I’m like that. He’s like that. So we collide a lot. But it was his turn to be indignant since this time it was my fault, and he said, “Mom. You are so ROUGH. You walk rough.  And you even drive rough. That HURT.” I apologized and tried not to let him see me roll my eyes, because he is exactly like me in this regard, and next time it’ll be him smashing me into a wall and I’ll be expected to be nice about it since I’m the adult.

As a kid, I always wanted to be graceful. It was the little girl ballerina thing, I suppose. And all those years of ballet had me deluded into thinking that sometimes I actually pulled it off. But no amount of ballet can override my particular combination of clumsiness and a lack of self-preservation.  Some weekends just pick you up and spit you out in such a way that you realize that of course graceful and you do not really mesh. That was my weekend. (Hope yours was different.)

I had a REAL good reason for weedeating my left foot on Saturday until it oozed with red, whelpy slash marks.

I was at my mom’s and had earlier (so in character) broken off the plastic guard thing that prevents you from easily weedwhacking your feet to pieces.  We had discussed breaking out the Hello Kitty pink duct tape and putting it back together. But… eh. Instead, I just wore my tall pink rain boots (with short denim shorts, no less, so I’m really driving down the home values in my mom’s ‘hood). This works GREAT. Except. You do look like an idiot.

Not that I really care.

So when it needed to be done again, on Saturday, and I didn’t HAVE the tall pink rain boots with me, I just figured I’d be careful.

Because, I’m SO generally careful and all of that. Who has time to break out the pink Hello Kitty duct tape and put the plastic guard thing back on, when you can just lie to yourself and SAY you’ll be careful?

My mom suggested I borrow her tall rain boots. I didn’t. I mean, I WOULD because I’m all for a lame excuse to share cute footwear, but my mom has teeny feet. (I did not, prior to my hacking off the flesh on my left foot. They are arguably smaller now, though.)

Anyway. That’s how I came to be wearing cute flip flops when I hacked my left foot to pieces in my mother’s backyard on Saturday. I put the weedeater back in the garage and limped to the front porch where my mom and Caden-7yr were sitting.

Caden-7yr says, “Weedeater isn’t working, huh? It sounded weird.” He has a bored, squinty look on his face, from the brightness of the afternoon and from analyzing the sounds of yard tools in the area.

“That’s the sound it makes when it rips flesh from bone.”

“YOU DIDN’T WEAR MY BOOTS?”

“No. They don’t fit.”

“How do you KNOW?”

“Because your FEET are smaller than MY feet! Your shoes are smaller than MY shoes!”

My mother is bent forward, examining the slash marks. “Well. I’m suprised we didn’t hear you scream.” (She meant that nicely. In case it’s coming off kinda NOT, she really was concerned.)

“Yeah, it was more one of those quiet, tension filled growly noises that starts here-” and I tap my stomach and demonstrate the sound of gutteral, restrained anguish. But I don’t get it quite right so I do a few more.

“Oh, those.”

THAT was yesterday. It seems so long ago. My foot looks much better today. Today I decided I would prune the crepe myrtle closest to the garage. Nothing scares Mike more than a tree or shrub or vine that is too close to the house and might do damage. (Except conversation with ‘feeling’ words, but you know what I mean.) I’ve been meaning to take care of the encroaching tree and haven’t. And Mike would have done it if I’d asked, probably, but if someone was going to do this, it should be the one who occasionally has read up on pruning, lopping techniques, and tree crotches. (No, I’m not proud of that. That phrase totally icks me out.)

So I got to work.

I got out the big, long handled lopper things and a ladder.

(already this sounds REALLY bad. I know.)

I’d done pretty well. But there was this one really fat branch, pretty high up, and coming off the trunk at an odd angle. Everything on it was dead. It needed to go. I sat on the top of the ladder, branches all around me, and positioned the blade. I was so focused on the cutting that I didn’t really notice that the big long handles were actually on either side of my body.

That would be an important thing to notice. And then to FIX.

But I learned soon enough, because as soon as I cut through the branch, those big handles slammed into both sides of my rib cage with bruising, crushing intensity that kinda TOTALLY convinced me I’d never make that mistake again. I dropped the loppers, slumped forward and held myself up with my feet propped against the tree. I made this horrible dying cat meow sound and my eyes filled up with hot tears, and I stayed there waiting for the pain to go away. It did. Mostly. It was pathetic, that scene.

I finished what I could, went and asked Mike to cut a few more branches. He asked if I was all right, noticing perhaps that I don’t normally hold my ribs in place. I said I was fine and didn’t explain. How do you explain that? “Well, honey. It was sort of like the saw the woman in half magic trick, but it’s not magic, and you use loppers, and you don’t need an assistant… and it helps if you can meow.”

I’m mostly fine. Except for the bits of raw foot flesh and the crushed, bruised feeling when I breathe, I’m really pretty good.

Rough weekend, yaknow?

~hm

11 Comments on “Monday Is Looking REAL Good”

1
Sara
July 25th, 2011
4:22 am

Ouch! I certainly hope you have a week ahead that will not bring you further pain.

2
Mother T
July 25th, 2011
6:20 am

Oh how I feel your pain! A few years ago, that would have been me.

3
Mother T
July 25th, 2011
9:23 am

BTW, I posted my “beliefs” post today. I don’t know if my feeder works or how to make it work. I’m guessing my blog is one you will just have to visit periodically to see if I’ve written anything new. Sorry. Blog geek, I am not!

4
Sarah
July 25th, 2011
10:23 am

I’mma thinkin’ you need a padded room. Stat.

So sorry!
Sarah recently posted..I hope nothing goes right so I have blog material

5
Jan
July 25th, 2011
11:31 am

I’ just hoping you didn’t actually break any ribs. Bless your little heart!
Jan recently posted..Adventures with a Toddler

6
LaLa
July 25th, 2011
1:11 pm

Being of the exact same “thinks she’s graceful because of ballet lessons but really runs into walls a lot more than graceful should” ilk, it was incredibly painful reading this post. I could see, hear and feel all of it. That thing with the loppers? I’m not even sure WHY it sounds so incredibly familiar, because I’m certain I’ve never been up in a tree lopping things. But I do know at some point in time I’ve been doing something with some kind of helpful tool and ended up getting pinched, all the while knowing I could have avoided it if I’d been graceful. I’m sending you witch-hazel soaked thoughts and little sympathy pats a la Seth.

7
Sir Nottaguy-Imadad
July 25th, 2011
8:15 pm

I’m sorry to hear that the gardening tools turned on you. They tend to do that by times. As for conversations with “feeling” words, I’m a man, so I wouldn’t know anything about those. BTW, I’ve meowed a few time myself.
Sir Nottaguy-Imadad recently posted..Day 2 Is In The Books

8
Geekwif
July 25th, 2011
10:59 pm

Owie!!! Hope you have lots of ice on hand!
Geekwif recently posted..Jane Eyre (Again) And Other Books

9
Linda
July 26th, 2011
10:52 pm

Forget the rain boots and ditch the heavy equipment. There is nothing I hate more than a weedeater, and like you, I have the scars to prove it.

Mans work. Ha.
Linda recently posted..Secret passages…

10
Linda
July 26th, 2011
10:54 pm

Forget the tall boots and ditch the heavy equipment. There is nothing I hate more than a weedeater, and like you, I have scars to prove it.

Mans work. Ha.

11
Angie
July 27th, 2011
11:50 pm

When you haven’t posted for a couple days after this post it has me a little worried about ya. Hope you are healing well :)

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