Clumsiness is genetic.

I have a long-standing disagreement with my right ankle. In the last couple of years, my left ankle has joined the fight. I don't think it needs to be said, but it's joined the right, not me. At this stage, at least once a week I have a minor sprain. I fell twice, ten minutes ago, while I was walking the dog. Once for each ankle. Well, not exactly. The left one was more of the foot twisting, not the ankle. The right was a full-on roll. Ouch. I need a hot pack.

This goes back to when I was 14 (-ish? I think). I was walking our two dogs, each around 70 lbs or so, down the deck stairs, and something happened, and I fell down the stairs. It was my first real sprain, and holy crap. My fabulous sister got me ice packs, and was very sweet to me, and I used crutches for a little while. Some weeks later, I was walking to strengthen the joint (and because you should walk, it's good for you, and because Mom said to), and I fell about halfway through my walk. I had to walk all the way back, on a re-sprained ankle. It's just been downhill from there.

Several years ago, I had what's called a Brostrom procedure to reattach the ligaments, which I had torn. From what I remember of his explanation, the orthopedist said I had completely severed one ligament, and I had smallish tears on others. It was a painful couple of months, but I made a decent recovery.....mostly. It's much stronger now. Before the surgery, I'd fall constantly, and it hurt, and I couldn't not limp. You shouldn't limp, it worsens your gait, but I just couldn't walk normally. In the best phase post-op, I had significantly less pain, and I was barely falling at all. Maybe one bad one every few months or so. I never have no pain in this ankle, but it's a dull ache most of the time.

The last six months or so, it's just gotten so much worse. Falling so frequently. I've even had to dig out my old braces, steal wraps from Ben (his injuries are a different story...he's a mechanic who has had a car fall on him, soooooo that's what that's about).

Waaaaaah.

This hot pack's pretty nice, though.

It's his fault you choked on a hamburger

I'm watching Christine with a couple of friends. It's hilarious. I'm fairly sure that's not the most common response.

I was reading the family blog (Illegitimus Non Carborundum), and Em's talking me up. I'm a "budding German/Spanish high school teacher" in that I'd like to do that...but that's about it. I don't know if you know this, but if you don't use a language for years, you start to lose your vocabulary. I still remember the basics, a smattering of weird words, and also some basic grammar, but I have to think really hard to come up with a cohesive sentence.

Pi randomly has colored patches on him. Not the usual black splotches, these are red, brown, etc. I think he lies in his food, or something.

I'm reinterpreting a pattern for girl-sized wristwarmers. It's mental exercise. I finished one, and I'm just giddy at how I did it.

I'm watching the kids wreck up the car here, on this movie, and I'm just waiting for them to get eaten.

It's John Carpenter.

The world is his vampire.

Sandwiches are Beautiful

Ben's been in Charlotte for the "AAA Superbowl of Knowledge" convention. Last night was an open bar, but I'm reasonably sure he survived (he was alive as of 10:50pm, anyway). I've been alone all weekend.

When I don't have a responsible adult to provide an example of what grown-ups and real people do, I devolve into a creature of the night. Friday night, I was up until after 4. Last night? It was 5am. I only really went to bed then because I can't quite bring myself to be up 'till sunrise. Not just yet, anyway. Maybe some day I won't be working, or I'll be working a fun job, or a from-home job, and I can do what I want, as far as my sleep schedule goes.

I've gotten a lot of knitting done this week. I finished 2 hats (to give as gifts), then I made a washcloth. I don't know why I made a washcloth, but I did. It's spring green cotton, and it has a heart on it. Would anyone like a washcloth? I also made the first of a pair of wine-red wristwarmers. I'm working on the second one right now. I dunno, I've just been sitting, staring at the television and knitting.

We use the Netflix free streaming to the Wii and the Xbox. Actually, I use the Wii, and Ben uses the Xbox. I've never used the Xbox, and I don't really want to. The Wii works basically like any other remote. It's simple, for my simple mind. Yes, I have a more complex mind to use, but if I'm already rotting my brains, I don't want to contaminate the complex part.

Purple monkey dishwasher.

That's not a non-sequitur, I found a pair of wristwarmers to knit flat (not the ones I'm working on now), with that name. It's from "The Simpsons" a while back, Homer yells it out randomly. I don't remember the context.

I think the key to getting myself to blog and get things out of my head is to make myself relax. I don't ever pull up the "new post" window because I think that whatever I'm going to write isn't something the world at large, or even my family, will care about. You know what, though? I don't care today. Stream of consciousness.

I think the main thing that has helped me with that line of thought is reading Hyperbole and a Half. I read through everything she's written, and it's all very interesting and entertaining. It keeps my attention. Maybe someone out there will like me, too.

I'm going to go shower and dress myself. I've been wearing the same pajamas for 2 days now.

Inconsistency kills training

My dog is usually fairly well-behaved. He's quiet at bedtime, he doesn't chase the cat, and he NEVER barks. He hasn't peed inside since the first day we brought him home. Yeah, he poops in the kitchen now and then, but I'm pretty sure we're just bad at reading his "walkies time" cues. Mom tells me to train him with a bell, like her dog does, but he's afraid of things like that. All-in-all, pretty good.

We haven't had to put him in "jail" more than once every few months or so for a long time. He's always been fairly good at taking cues on what he can chew and what he can't. I give him lots of toys, so that probably helps. Lately, though, he's been a pretty bad dog. We'll wake up or come home to shredded crap all over the floor. Paper, food, medicine, plastic wrappers, pencils (wooden and mechanical), anything he can find on the table or in the living room trash cans. It's usually Ben who finds it, and he'll fuss at the dog for a few minutes before just cleaning up and moving on. I think this has given Joey the idea that it's okay to do, as long as he doesn't get caught.

When we first got Joey, he'd be in Jail when we were gone, and sometimes all night, too. As he began to behave, we started letting him out more and more until he had complete freedom. I think that he has really taken this freedom to mean that he can do whatever he wants when we're not here.

No more. Joey's in jail as I sit here typing. I'm still cleaning up the mess I found this morning. He ate a cough/cold pill. It's half of the dose, so he's probably going to be just fine, but still. That and eating pencils is bad for him, and I'm sick of the mess. He'll be jailed for every infraction, for at least a couple of hours. Maybe he'll take the hint. Maybe he won't. I don't know, but either he'll start behaving himself or he'll start living in his crate.

Vindication!

I knew I'd slack off. I haven't completely abandoned this yet, though. I feel better knowing that all of my relatives have also been slacking :)

I got a ticket this morning. Boooo. I learned a valuable lesson, though. That Charger isn't tailgating you. It's a f#$@ing cop!

Neighbors

I live in an apartment complex. The only people I knew enough to say hi to were the kids upstairs. They're maybe a little younger than I am, with a big ol' German Shepherd named Teddy and a baby (maybe a year or so old). We never exchanged names, but they recognize us, smile and say hi, and we ask about each others' dogs.

They moved. I now know none of my neighbors at all. Honestly, I don't really want to. Some of them are quiet and fairly nice, but they don't seem to speak English. The rest of them are all pretty obnoxious. The adults yell and carry on, they drink and play loud music, and if they're feeling really froggy, they'll pass out on the grass somewhere. The children run around and scream, they throw things everywhere. They'll go upstairs and throw food, drink, and balloons full of crap over. It's disgusting. They'll charge at Joey (Bag o' Donuts, my dog) and sometimes throw balls at him. We see them climbing over cars and climbing into what we hope are their families' cars. I've found smudgy foot- and hand-prints on my windshield, but I've never caught them in the act. The other day, Ben (fiance) found that some mysterious agency had drawn stripes on his bumper in crayon (probably). He went to the complex manager about it, and he says she's livid. She knew exactly which families he was talking about. Maintenance actually had to shampoo the carpets in the foyer (yes, they carpeted the foyers of the buildings. Open to the elements, kind of an idiot decision, but whatever) to get rid of the crap thrown down.

Let's hope that'll stop.

Let's also hope that someone awesome moves in upstairs. Maybe even someone whose name I can learn! I miss knowing my neighbors (although I still know some of Mom's neighbors ^_^).

Fear and Self-Loathing in Cary

Did you ever do something so stupid you immediately hated yourself, but you couldn't fix it? I just did.

I had a fight with my best friend. Through text messages. First of all, that makes me about 12, so ha-ha, I know. Second, we've been friends for 11 damn years. I'm closer to her than I am to my sister, and she genuinely makes me try to be better. She's prettier than I am, she's nicer than I am, she's calmer than I am, and she's always been better at the job we both do. She's always seemed really, truly happy, too. I'm still crying right now, so I'm not thinking entirely straight, but I'm positive it was my fault. It always is.

I can't fix it right now, though.

We're both so angry and upset that anything I say will make it worse. I hate myself so much right now. I hope that a few days of cooling off and thinking clearly will help, but I don't know. She's never been so mad at me (that I know of). I need to think about what happened, so I know how to try to make it up.

And no, this isn't an olive branch to her or a cry for help. I never told her I made this, so I doubt she knows, and I'd bet money she doesn't read it if she does. And a cry for help? Please. I'm a grown-up, and I did something stupid. I need to think about what I did and take care of it myself.

I've been a kid my whole damn life, and I need to grow the hell up.