7am. In car taking FIL (FatherInLaw) to the airport after his 20 day annual eating and weight gaining visit.
FIL: I have an exercise machine in my bedroom. Husband: Yeah. But you don't use it. Me: Husband has an exercise machine in his bedroom too. Me! (And because it's early and I've just alluded to s.e.x. I laugh hysterically. FIL does not.) Husband: Yeah. I don't use that either. I just put clothes on it. ...
0 Comments
This is a common pose at our house of late: Joe Boxer/Joseph climbing into Husband’s lap for a cuddle and Pepper the Wannabe Cat on a towel next to me. It’s quite funny how small he thinks he is. Joe, that is. Husband is fully aware of his size. Both Joe’s and his own.
I digress. We had movie night on Saturday. FIL (Father in Law), Husband and I were tucked into our respective couch corners. Pepper the Wannabe Cat crawled into my lap. Joseph climbed into/onto/around Husband’s lap like he was 50lbs lighter than he is. The movie was about halfway through when Husband suddenly shouted then hunted around for his iPhone for the flashlight. What he saw in the light of the flash was so traumatizing that I’m sure to be dealing with fallout for years. Not the literal fallout. I dealt with that right there and then because while he was snuggled up on Husband’s lap, Joseph was thoroughly relaxed. So relaxed that his anal sac released A STREAM OF BROWN GOO down husband’s leg, onto the edge of the couch cushion and onto the floor. And by ‘brown goo’ I mean shit. A STREAM OF SHIT DRIBBLED OUT OF JOE’S BUTT and onto Husband’s leg. Yup. My dear OCD Husband - who will not let us leave dishes in the sink in case he gets poop on his hands, goes to wash it off, drips poop on the dishes, rendering those dishes dead to him forever – well, his worst nightmare came to life. I could not stop laughing as he rushed himself to the bathroom to decontaminate himself with massive amounts of antibacterial soap. Because I’ve been telling him about Joseph’s anal sac issues for a while now and have been thoroughly ignored. And, not having the ability to drive, have been unable to do anything but shake my head as Husband went on his way. But now, NOW I think he'll listen. There’s nothing like a little smelly proof to win an argument. And yes, a vet visit is in Joseph's future. And a shrink in Husband's. I’m still laughing. This site is called iamwhaleshark thanks to my dear mother and her semi blind state and dry sense of humor.
When I was going through a very rough time in my life, I decided to get a ‘breathe’ tattoo on my wrist. I was hoping that I would see it in times of strife and it would help me remember to breathe. But when two child stars - that had just begun to implode - got ‘breathe’ tattooed on their bodies I came to the conclusion that 'breathe' wasn't helping them any and went with ‘inhalexhale’ instead. A logical person would have skipped the tattoo and gone for yoga or actual deep breathing but I am not logical. Proudly, and somewhat defiantly, I showed my fresh tattoo to Mom who promptly asked me, “Why did you get Whale Shark tattooed on your wrist?" “What?" I responded, totally shrilly. "Why in the hell would I get WHALE SHARK tattooed on my wrist???” To which she calmly replied. “Well, it would be rather silly.” To this day, Husband, Mom, random friends and family will tell me to "whaleshark" when I'm freaking out. While it may not calm me down, it is sure to make me laugh. And that's way better than yoga! Hug yourself a Whale Shark today! I don't know about you but I’m OVER Broken Ankle. This will be my last post blathering on about it. Unless, of course, something tragic and gross happens and I feel you need to hear and, of course, see all the gore and gook.
I broke the stupid thing twelve weeks ago yesterday. I'm now in a sexy Ankle Bustier for the foreseeable future and start physical therapy on Tuesday. Doc says the bone is healed and now it's time to work on the muscles and tendons, which, by the way, are PISSED OFF at me right now. Anyway, here are some things I've learned since June 9th:
I'm sure there are more bits of wisdom I've gained throughout this mess of an experience but I'm over it. I can't wait to define life as something other than Broken Ankle. With that in mind, below is a photo timeline of Broken Ankle in all its sexy purple wonder to close out this episode of my life. Enjoy. UPDATE: Apparently this post got folks feeling guilty. This was not my intent. I was just trying to express my feelings - imperfect as they are. Ah well. This was Husband's response to the comments on my FB page. And why I love him so very much. He. Is. Awesome. HUSBAND: It lools like there are a few folks that have read todays blog and are now feeling guilty......not sure why, we are big enough and ugly enough to ask for help. That being said, if you really really are stricken with overwhelming guilt, I have set up an Amazon Wish List "It's Never Too Late To Make It Up To ej" that has a few choice items on it ;) Included in this list are the following : Trip To Hawaii, Coffee Maker, Towel Set, Games Compendium, Cuddly Toy, TV, Boat, Private Jet, Butler (English not Gerard) and of course Leather Brief Case with $5,000,000. It’s time for Husband’s Annual Violation as he calls it. The time of year when the man I’m married to - who subsists mainly on pizza and hamburgers and eggs goes the doctor and comes back with cholesterol numbers that are so low he can rub them in my face - has to drop his y-fronts and get "Violated by a woman!" And what does that Annual Violation mean for me? Well, I get to hear about the drama and trauma of the whole experience for days and days and days. And then, to add insult to his injury, his father comes into town tonight so we’re in for a lovely couple of weeks of Husband and his emotional roller coaster. Yay me! Sigh. But it’s not all bad because I’m driving again! Of course, I’m driving like an eighty year old man in a large boat car with bad reflexes and a grudge drives but I’m driving. Sadly driving means I have to put on Stupid Boot, clomp down to the car, take off Stupid Boot and put on the one very old big shoe that fits on Broken Ankle Foot, drive to wherever, take off very old big shoe and put Stupid Boot back on and repeat for every single errand. It’s exhausting! BUT, I’m driving. And just when I’m free to wander the world outside of my window, suddenly things get exciting in the backyard at home. First Woodchuck moved in and we’ve spent the last week watching him dart around the yard and back into his hole at the bottom of our patio wall. Then yesterday, while I was sitting on the couch and Husband was looking out the window he spotted a Bobcat sitting right outside Mr. Woodchuck’s new home waiting for him to pop his head out and become dinner. A BOBCAT!!! Because bobcats eat small animals occasionally - though not the damn chipmunk that is currently sitting right where Bobcat was yesterday - I sent the pic to the local news station that has its studio in our neighborhood and we made the news. This is us above a dead body found. I’m so proud. Who knew fame would come in the form of a furry beast?
Maybe this will take distract Husband from the trauma of his Annual Violation. Who am I kidding? I can hear him whingeing already… |
AuthorMy name is ej. I'm a girl. I say that because with the short hair and the short initials, folks aren't always sure. More brilliant insights to who I am in About me Archives
April 2019
Categories
All
|