Archive forSeptember, 2009

Hey Mister Sandman…

Hey Mister Sandman…

 

After a lesson on Algebraic permutations, I headed off to prepare for bed. The sound of rain had been fairly constant throughout the day and evening, and didn’t appear to be letting up. After flossing and brushing my teeth, I took a moment to make sure the ceiling vents were tightly closed before hitting the sheets. I have a habit of fluffing up my pillow before I lay down, and so I grabbed the upper end to do that. I knew something was wrong when I felt cool wetness, and when I lifted the pillow up and turned it over, sure enough, the underside was wet and so was the sheets and the head of the mattress. My astute mind, tired as it was, deduced that water was coming in from the window edge. That deduction was validated when I saw water dripping down the wall and on to the bed from, you guessed it, the window edge. Closer inspection showed the wooden mattress base was also quite wet…aaack. The blame for this really belongs to Brian. You see earlier in the evening, as the rain was pelting down on the RV, he looked at me and said “It’s nice to be warm and dry”. Obviously the gods heard this and decided that we were getting just a little too comfortable and so, perhaps having had a slow day and looking for a bit of entertainment, they sent us this rather moist reminder. It also meant that the sandman was going to have to wait…sigh.

 

I will remind everyone that our RV is 30 yrs old, and therefore has NO roll out sections, thus giving us a 12 inch wide “hall” space. Now, I’m not complaining, I just feel this will help you get the picture more clearly. Anyway I quickly stripped the bed and then Brian used a combination origami and wrestling technique to maneuver the mattress out into the hall (aka kitchen) and leaned it against the combination clothes closet, liquor cabinet and pantry wall. Our hopes being that by sometime the next day, both the wood and the mattress would be dry.

 

The only other available sleeping area was the sofa in the living/dining room. This is the area where the sofa and the dining table (with benches, not chairs) are directly across from each other and said dining table also acts as the living room table. The sofa slides down like a futon resulting in a cross between a twin and double bed. We have never tried to sleep on this before but, as they say (Does anyone really know who “they” are?) there’s a first time for everything, although I think some things should never have a first time, like root canals, blind dates or Brian climbing off the sofa in the morning, making my side tilt toward the table and the opening underneath, sending my back side, butt first, into said opening, folding me in half.

 

Well the bed frame was dry but the mattress wasn’t, so it spent the day in the “hall”. It went something like this…

-Tilt mattress toward sink, making sure no one is on the sink side

 (Sorry dear) open closet, put laundry in basket, close closet, tilt

 mattress back

          -Sideway shuffle between stove, counter and sink as needed,

           while keeping the stepping on your other half’s feet down to a

           minimum (Apology accepted).  

          -Tilt mattress, get water container, tilt mattress back, fill water

           jug and coffee pot, tilt mattress, put container away, tilt mattress

           back.

          -Slide mattress (Thought I was going to say tilt didn’t you?) farther

           in to the “hall”, get stuff needed off bedside table, slide mattress

           back

          -Tilt……Well, you get the idea.

 

By the end of the day, Brian had sealed EVERY window, the mattress was dry and he had it wrestled back into the bedroom and onto the frame. Teeth were flossed and brushed. Ceiling vents were checked. Pillows were fluffed, and the sandman was calling. I climbed between the clean sheets and as I drifted off to sleep I heard “It IS nice to be warm and dry.” Shhhh! J

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When Will I Learn…

When Will I Learn?…

 

Do you ever have moments when your brain and your mouth just don’t work in harmony with each other? Your brain saying one thing and your mouth spewing out something totally different? I was hoping that by my age I’d have found a way to coach these two functions into getting along and working together, but alas it isn’t so.  As I glance over to the book in Brians lap I spot the word Algebraic, which of course is part of the whole MATH thing. In the same moment that my mind sees the word, registers the meaning of the word, and tells me that if I ask about it I’m going to get more of an explanation than my inquiring mind really wants to know, my mouth has already opened and although inside my head I’m screaming “Nooooooooo!” the words “Hey, what are you reading about?” are released into the room, and he actually hears them. No, I’m not kidding.

 

He doesn’t usually hear what I say the first time around (even if I’m sitting right next to him) especially if he’s reading, or listening to the radio, or glancing out the window, or……well…pretty much anytime. If I want him to clue in, I physically take his head in my hands and turn it towards me so he has no option but to pay attention. But not this time. He’s actually quick to reply and begins reading out loud about Permutations which, I think, has something to do with mapping sets of things like CD’s or bad hair days. It’s not that I didn’t or don’t want to learn things like math, but I’m more the type who wants to learn it if I feel I’m actually going to USE it. Besides, it’s not that I can’t DO any math. Why I can count, subtract, multiply and divide quite well, so long as the batteries aren’t dead.

 

Brian will sometimes question my education. One of his favorite lines is “Did you learn ANYTHING in school?” which I usually ignore, but I’m often tempted to reply “Of course I did. I learned that 1 and 1 equals 2 (see that’s math). I also learned how to read and write. I learned when women in Canada were allowed to vote (1917), the Canadian Anthem..Oh Canada, Our long and naked land (or something like that) and I learned that hanging someone out of the second story window by his ankles to get his pen from the ledge below will land you in detention”  I’d to clarify that I did  indeed graduate from St. Mary’s High School in Calgary, Alberta.  I will admit however that I was what most people would call a typical high school student who paid only enough attention and did only enough work to pass a test. Otherwise it would have cut into my time spent on important things like skipping class, hanging out at the coffee shop with friends, drinking cola and eating French fries while looking over the newest magazines and discussing music such as Michael Jackson singing about a rat named Ben, Elton John singing about a crockidile that rocks and my favorite, Chuck Berry singing about playing with his ding-a-ling. Classics for sure. But I digress.

 

 

So after using up what was left of my brain cell allotment for the day, I must have made enough sense for Brian to think that I had indeed (at least for the moment) grasped some of the information, because he said “Good girl”. And before he could get started on the next page, I quickly pointed out …

  1) It’s 11:30 at NIGHT and the bed is calling out to me,

  2) Although I appreciate the effort, I wasn’t expecting a math lesson at

      this time of night and as such didn’t come prepared, and…    

  3) It’s 11:30 at NIGHT… You do the math.

 

Bed it is…J

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Painfully Obvious…

Painfully Obvious…

After a week in denial, there I was unsuccessfully trying to ignore a toothache, mainly because…well it was aching. I tried telling myself it would be fine if I REALLY kept positive thoughts, but it seems that even I don’t listen to myself…hmph. Anyway the sadistic tooth was completely ignoring the pain medication I had taken and invited all the surrounding teeth, both up and down, to join in the melee. As I moaned and groaned while holding my hand against the painful area, my other half, being the observant fellow that he is, noticed my discomfort and inquired “What’s wrong?” “Uh, my tooth hurts. I think I need a root canal” I suspected this was the problem as I’d been through it before. I had also hoped I’d never have to do it again…sigh. “Need to go to the dentist?” he asks. As I didn’t think seeing my gynecologist was going to help, I replied “Yes, that’s probably a good idea”. Now the only dentist I even remotely trust is in Calgary, so after getting an appointment and enough pain killers to get me through the next 3 days, we headed off to Alberta.

I’m not exactly thrilled about going to the dentist. In fact I’d rather sit in a theatre, front row, in the middle seat while listening (without ear plugs) to an opera, after taking a laxative. But then again, I don’t know anyone who joyfully signs up to experience oral needles, little rubber sheets stretched across the mouth and held in place by clamps that ALWAYS bite into the gum, drills, suction and other strange utensils being thrust in and out, while listening to the dentist ask for things like nippers, pliers and power tools. Not exactly dialogue to relax by. And they try to distract you with a television mounted into the ceiling tuned into a home renovation show. Oh joy, more drill and other power tool sounds. Now I realize that today’s technology has brought about ways to make the experience less painful. However, although I appreciate the attempt, it doesn’t make going to the dentist any more joyful for me and I still cringe at the mere thought. Brian thinks my pain threshold is too low and/or that I’m simply a wimp, to which I say “Aaaaaaannd?” only to receive the usual combination head shake eye roll. Anyway, I was right. I did need a root canal and I did get a root canal. I also got a bill for $800. I’m not sure what was more painful, the toothache or the bill…Ouch!

Speaking of pain, I’ve been known to injure some part of my body on what seems in the last year or so to be a regular occurrence. It’s been a couple of months now and I celebrate each week as it comes. Well last week while we were at the farm, someone was helping his dad dig a well and “Safety first” measures weren’t quite in place. A well was needed, so they just got out there and starting digging one. What the hell. There attitude is that they’re men, and therefore invincible. Well Mr Invincible had a bucket full of heavy wet clay attack him when it came off the home made (uh huh) pully system, and he received an injury to his leg, just above the knee. I know it’s hard to believe it wasn’t me but it’s true. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not happy Brian (who thinks I’m a total klutz) got hurt, I’m just glad it wasn’t me and it confirms my suspicion that he is indeed as susceptible to life’s little booboos as I am. I do however have to agree with him (damn) that he has a better pain threshold than I do. The camera flash was too bright, and so the picture isn’t very good. I’m glad to say he’s well on his way to healing and I’m yet another week injury free, so life is good.

 

As we headed back to the RV, the well was still a work in progress (slow progress) a new shiny bucket took the place of the old plastic one (still using the same pulley system though, and the paramedics were on stand-by.

 

 

 

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And thanks once again for everyone’s hospitality in Calgary and at the farm.

It’s always a joy. 🙂

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