Showing posts with label accidents. Show all posts
Showing posts with label accidents. Show all posts

Saturday, November 10, 2007

Cat-like Gag Reflexes

If you're a parent you can never leave your children alone for a moment. You know how you hear all the time from the parents of the 5 year old you see on the news, who drove an 18-wheeler into a barn or fell off the roof of the grocery - "I only turned my back for a second!"

Well, that's too long.

You can't turn your back ever and here's a little story from my childhood as more evidence that turning your back is not a good idea.

We lived in a house that didn't have central air conditioning, but we had 2 window air conditioners, one in the kitchen/dining room combo and one in my parents bedroom, because in the 70's the parents were the really important people in the house and children were second class citizens who were made to suffer and sweat.

These days I think such a thing may be considered child abuse and things are all turned around and now parents are suffering for the children. What gives?

My brother in law Las Vegas is a prime example of this. MDH once went to a UMASS football game with Las Vegas and his oldest son who at the time was 18. The three of them stayed in a hotel room with 2 full size beds. MDH slept in one of the beds and Las Vegas slept ON THE FLOOR and let his young, spry perfectly healthy 18 year old son have the other bed. In my youth this would never have happened unless I was crippled or something and even then I'm still not sure my parents would have let me have the bed.

Anyhoo... the window air conditioners were expensive and I wasn't allowed anywhere near them for any reason.

We also (for a couple of years) had a pet cat. Her name was Calico and I loved her severely, but nobody had ever shown or told me how to care for or play with a cat properly and as a result Calico stayed as far away from me as possible at all times. I was a tail pulling, force-the-cat-into-my-doll- clothes kind of child. In short, the cat thought I was a little asshole and her instinct for self preservation was correct.

I was constantly chasing after our beloved kitty and the kitty was constantly skulking, low to the ground, as fast as she could away from me.

I soon learned however that she could be coaxed, temporarily, with food.

We kept our pantry stocked with can after can of a disgusting, although very popular at the time, brand of cat food called Puss 'N Boots. No doubt made with ground up horse meat, old phone books, o'possum innards and fish guts, for flavor cats love. Whatever was in it you can be sure that it stunk to high heaven and if you looked at it or had to smell it long enough your gag reflex would begin to kick in.

At the time my sister, who I mentioned before had Down's Syndrome, was going through a phase where she too was obsessed with our cat and also especially with dogs (though we didn't have one). She would spend a great deal of time on her hands and knees barking and meowing. Once she got into trouble for insisting that my mother serve her dinner on the floor instead of the dining room table.

My mother said, "Get up here and eat your dinner at the the table this minute! You're a big girl!", to which my sister replied with a loud yapping bark and then said, "NO! Me a boy doggie!", and barked again as to further prove her point.


Actually she said "Goggie" and it was all ridiculously adorable, up to a point.

Now that you know all of this I can tell you about the series of events that unfolded one summer evening when my mother left my sister and me alone for a few moments. Moments that would change all of our lives forever. Or at least until we finally moved out of that house.

As soon as I realized that for whatever reason my mother was going to be gone for awhile I made my move to the pantry and grabbed a can of Puss N' Boots, slithered over to the electric can opener I that could barely reach on the kitchen counter and the cat food can opening noise began.

As I'd hoped, Calico came running immediately.

My plan was working.

I scooped the stinking pile of cat food into a clean dish, set it down on the kitchen floor and laid down next to it as close as I could stand so that I could pet the cat while she ate.

So absorbed was I in watching the cat enjoy her bonus dinner I did not notice that my sister was observing the event as well.

She walked over to Calico and me, plopped herself down on all fours, shoved the cat out of the way, face planted herself into the bowl and began to eat the cat food herself.

I leapt into action, grabbed the bowl of cat food and started running at full tilt for the dining room. Not so much because my sister had started eating the food, but more because she had ruined my rare and special cat petting moment. I looked around for a new spot to begin again with the cat lovin'.

It was at this time that I tripped over my sister's outstreched leg.

So the bowl of stinking cat food in in my hand went rolling and flying across the dining room, the gooey blobs of cat food rolled and tumbled through the air and landed with a wet, sloppy splat right on the air conditioner.

Cat food was in every single little slat, nook and cranny.

I tried to clean up as much as I could as quickly as I could before my mother came back. Meanwhile my sister had grabbed the bowl that fell to the ground and resumed her mealtime kitty impersonation.

Of course my mother showed up right about this time and I don't remember much after that.

I do remember this: My mother and I were so busy, furiously cleaning the air conditioner, that we had kind of forgotten about my sister having eaten the cat food. Later, when my dad came home from work he nearly vomited when he greeted my sweet baby sister with a kiss. He recalled later that her breath could have knocked over a grizzly bear.

And I remember this: We were never able to get all of the cat food cleaned out of the air conditioner and every time we turned it on the entire house smelled like rotten sardines.

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Blog Fodder or Lack Thereof

I've run out of blog fodder today. So instead of not posting anything (probably the smarter option) I have prepared in advance this garbage post consisting of one of those annoying 20 questions type of things. I've a feeling it sucks and is a royal cop out.

Have you ever licked the back of a CD to try to get it to work?
Why the fuck would I do that? Does it work?

What's the largest age difference between yourself and someone you’ve dated?
Once I dated someone six years younger than me for way longer than necessary. I thought he was just inexperienced and naive but it turns out he was dumber than a hay rake.

Ever been in a car wreck?
Several, but only one was my fault.

Were you popular in high school?
I was practically invisible and that was all right by me.

Have you ever been on a blind date?
Several, but only one was my fault.
Actually I met MDH on Match.com - we could be one of those barfy couples in their commericials.

Are looks important?
In the arena of love looks are not as important as shared values and pheromones. In the arena of life in general I think it's important to look and smell as if you care at least a little bit about your personal grooming.

Do you have any friends that you've known for 10 years or more?
My friend Bob who I met when I was a sophomore in high school. We're not that close anymore, but we are still good friends and keep in contact.

By what age would you like to be married?
Most of my life I would have said never, but I finally tied the knot at age 35.

Does the number of people a person's slept with affect your view of them?
After negative test results for AIDS only if it's in my face and drunk dialing my house on a regular basis and calling me a whore. Otherwise the sleep number is not a factor.

Are you a good tipper?
I am an excellent tipper and woe unto those who dine with me and deny altogether or tip a paltry 15% when fine service has been provided.

What's the most you have spent for a haircut?
$100 American dollars plus 20% tip.

Have you ever had a crush on a teacher?
Not as a student, but later as an adult.

Have you ever peed in public?
Not on purpose. I'm not sure it's physically possible for me to do such things. I tend to freeze up if the gaps on the doors of public bathroom stalls are too wide.

What song do you want played at your funeral?
Lick It Up. Just kidding probably something equally inappropriate though.

What would your last meal be before getting executed?
Only if I get to cook it myself. I would make chicken fried steak (the secret is to use a lean pork chop that you have pounded the crap out of until it is flat as a pancake), mashed potatoes (I leave the skins on) with lots of real butter, corn on the cob with lime juice, salt and lots of real butter, and of course this meal has to have biscuits with flour gravy. I love this meal, but never make it because it could kill me. If I'm going to be executed anyway I'll probably have second helpings.

Beatles or Stones?
Why do I have to choose? See? This is why I'm agnostic.

If you had to pick one person on earth to die, who would it be?
Someone who is terminally ill and in pain and wants to die anyway.

Beer, wine or hard liquor?
Yes please. If you make me choose I choose red wine.

Do you have any phobias?
I'm agoraphobic and frightened of large open spaces. Being in too small of a boat on the ocean gives me a panic attack. Also can't snorkel or swim if I can't see the bottom. I'm also claustrophobic but not panic inducing, more aggressively irritated in large crowds of jostling people. Riding a crowded subway is infuriating to me. People behave like such animals and I need to maintain a rather large perimeter of personal space. I used to also be afraid of the bathtub in our old house. It was one of those giant jetted tubs and the house was really old and I was afraid that if I filled the tub with water and got into it the weight would make it crash thru the kitchen ceiling.

Jesus, I'm a mess.

What are your plans for the future?
I'm really more of a live in the moment kind of gal. But we are always planning some kind of travel so will probably be heading off to Europe again soon. I'm trying to convince MDH that Venice is fantastic in the winter after New Year's but before Carnivale. We'll see. I guess I should get a job too.

Do you walk around the house naked?
No. Because of my fucked up ankle it's really uncomfortable for me to be barefoot. I've always got on shoes. Also I have huge out of control boobs so I'm usually wearing a sports bra when I'm comfy at home. When I got out in public I always wear an underwire. So there's a vision, a middled aged women wearing nothing but sneakers and a sports bra. Well, I always wear a watch too.

If you were an animal what would you be?
A big braying ass.

What do you do as soon as you walk in the house?
Hang up my keys on the knobby thing behind the back door and ask the cat in the most sickening baby talk imaginable if he missed his mommy. It's disgusting and yet I continue to do it.

Do you like horror or comedy?
Comedy. Violence really upsets me.

Are you missing anyone?
All my Columbus friends.

Where do you want to live when you are old?
Paris, France is our current top contender for dream retirement locales. France has terrific healthcare and the best food in the entire world.

Who is the person you can count on the most?
It's a tie between my husband and my best friend. That sounds like an episode of Jerry Springer just waiting to happen.

If you could date any celebrity past or present, who would it be?
Joe Strummer

What did you dream last night?
Remodeling a basement into a bedroom. Really. I have no idea why but I dream of remodeling projects quite frequently.

What is your favorite sport to watch?
A tie between soccer and curling. Soccer because the rules are easy to understand and MDH and I used to have season tickets to the Columbus Crew MLS soccer team. Curling because it's just weird and I love the looks of intense concentration as people push a bowling ball across ice with a broom.

Are you named after anyone?
Nope.

What is your favorite alcoholic drink?
Red wine or sometimes I enjoy a nice mojito, but it's hard to find a good one.

Non alcoholic drink?
Water or iced tea.

Have you ever been in love?
Lots of times.

Do you sing in the shower?
I sing everywhere.

Have you ever been arrested?
Nope.

What is your favorite Holiday?
July 4th

Would you ever get plastic surgery?
Maybe. In fact I probably should.

Have you ever caught a fish?
Yes. When I was 10 I went fishing with my uncle Al and kept catching the same stupid bluegill over and over again. The poor things head and mouth were all torn up from my clumsy hands ripping out the hook so many times. It was repulsive and I've only fished one other time after that when I bought fly fishing lessons for MDH and I fished for about 5 minutes. I had a minor freak out when a fish nibbled on my lure and I stopped immediately.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Accidents Will Happen But Only Hit & Run

Chulita, one of my very favorite bloggers has asked me to post about an accident I mentioned in a comment I made on her post about an accident she was in many years ago with her baby daughter. As I was mulling it over I realized that the context of my accident mentioned in the comment, life changing as it was, may have been mistaken as something more recognizably devastating like a car accident.

The thing that struck me most about her post was the way she described that terrifying slow motion, you know you're in trouble, holy shit fuck, please Baby Jesus don't let me die, moments. The ones you have right after the realization that a possibly fatal and certainly bodily injuring mistake has been made, and right before the impact.

The big life changing accident that I had, had none of that. One moment I was standing and the next moment I was face planted in gravel watching tiny red spiders crawling around on my index finger. I began to stand up and dust myself off, but stopped short when I looked over at my friends, who were gaping at me in horror.

When I had this accident I was 19. I remember all of the events of the day very clearly as it began as one of the best days of my young adult life. I was on my first kind-of date with a boy I found intensely fascinating. He was in a band, he wrote short stories, and he wore a leather jacket and a Skinny Puppy t-shirt in exactly the correct way that any private school educated punk boy would in 1987. The first night that I met him, without ever speaking to me he whisper-sang a song in my ear and gave me his phone number. I think I'm still blushing from it. I had never been the object of such forwardness and overt flirtation before and the song was I've Got A Crush On You (Sweetie Pie). I'm a huge Gershwin fan from way back.

I sang back to him "I like a Gershwin tune, how about you?" And so it went. I took his picture that night and I still have it in an old shoebox, along with the mix tape he made for me. I'm fairly certain it was June 19th.

I called him the next day, a Sunday and the first time I had ever called a boy (I was a very shy and a late bloomer), and we made plans to "hang out" that night with a couple of our other friends as young people are often prone to do. I think a real date involving meeting of parents and picking up at the front door would have given me apoplexy (besides, he didn't have a car). My friend Dan J looked upon this as a golden opportunity to "hang out" with his latest crush girl (we'll call her CG), and so me, Dan J, CG, CG's brother, and the Fascinating Boy all went out carousing in downtown Columbus.

Downtown Columbus on any given Sunday in 1987 was a vast teenage wasteland. There was nothing to do because it was, if I remember correctly, the one night of the week that Crazy Mama's was closed (if you lived in Columbus in the 80's, were young and remotely happening you've heard of it). But for that very reason it was a great place to hang out because there was no one there. No grown-ups or cops. We would hang out at what is now called Battelle Riverfront Park where there were paddle boat docks and a long expanse of crumbling concrete river bank to frolic upon and make teen-age merry in our small city goth-punk way. The paddle boats are long gone and have been replaced with a replica of Christopher Columbus's Santa Maria.

The crumbling concrete riverbank has been fenced off and is now planted with with many trees and shrubs. Probably because of me. At the time, because of the accessibility and the way the concrete was laid out like a welcome mat, you could very easily climb the rusty ironwork (a ladder really) to the railroad bridge that spans the Olentangy river. It was almost like the city invited you to climb it. So that is exactly what we did, although (oddly enough) we had plans later to go to the Drexel and see The River's Edge.

You may be thinking at this point that the young 19 year old lady was hit by a train. Alas, no. Nothing so exciting as that. The boys, except for the Fascinating Boy (he had common sense too), really did most of the climbing and swinging from the tracks like monkey bars over the water. My accident occurred as we were leaving.

I started to slide on the concrete crumble and I must've braced myself pretty hard because I couldn't imagine falling and making a fool of myself in front of the Fascinating Boy. I braced myself too hard because (here it comes) my leg snapped. It snapped in such a way that the bone was sticking out. A compound fracture. I don't remember the actual fall.
I remember the loud echoing crack. I remember coming to and that my face and hands hurt. I remember my face was bleeding and had gravel stuck in my cheek and that little tiny red spiders living in the gravel started to crawl on my hand. I remember the looks on the faces of my friends and the moment that CG started to scream. I remember laughing and trying to get up and looking down and seeing that the ankle of my jeans looked funny. I remember saying to my friends, "Did you fuckin' hear that? Did you hear me break my leg? I think my leg is broken." I remember the stupid red spiders. I didn't cry.

Fascinating Boy and Dan J ran to the downtown police headquarters, about half a block away from the stupidness that had just occurred on the train bridge and the SWAT team, being the only rescue source currently available came to dig me out of the gravel and take me to the hospital. They put me in one of those basket things on ropes. I remember that young master Fascinating Boy, like a total gentleman, held my hand the entire time.

I had to drop out of college (summer classes had just started) and spent the rest of my summer confined in my parents home (it was my home too, although I never felt like it), in my bed and on crutches. This was also the summer I started chain smoking. I would crutch to the pantry and steal my mothers cigarettes when she was at work and spend my afternoons smoking and reading library books.

I spent the rest of my life, until a few years ago, in pain. When I dropped out of school I also got dropped from my parents insurance and any sad job I had after that wouldn't insure me. Pre-existing condition. So the 7 pins and plate implanted in my leg that were supposed to be removed the next year, never were. They remained semi-visible under my skin holding my leg together until about 1997 when I finally was insured properly and could afford to get treatment for the arthritis that had set in and eventually wore away every stitch of cartilage left in that stupid joint.

The ankle has since been fused and I am relatively pain free. It's a fucking blessing beyond description to be able to walk across a room. I could make a joke here about my vanity (I'm overloaded with it) and how tragic it is to never be able to wear gorgeous high heels. But somehow, it just ain't funny.


What about the Boy? What about him indeed. We remained friends but whatever spark occurred that night by the paddle boats probably fizzled out the minute he met my scary over protective dad at the ER. We lost touch but I would hear about him thru the Crazy Mama's grapevine. He remained talented, amazing and fascinating, moved to Minneapolis where he was in a band of some renowned (ethereal, synthesizer stuff), and got married.


Sadly and eerily about a year or so ago I stumbled across
this review of his bands last release, dated October 18th 2004 that said that he had died of brain cancer earlier that year.

The accidental reading of the review and the coincidence of my being asked to write this post on Oct. 18th is just plain spooky.

At the top the page is the only picture I could find with Google Images of the park and bridge, with a circle around the spot where the incident occurred. It looks so different now.

I have titled this post with a song lyric just like Churlita always does so appropriately.