My body is limber. Limber for a woman my age, who doesn’t practice yoga with any degree of commitment. Which I’m pretty sure negates results. I can bend forward and palm the floor with my hands., yet my body lacks is the inherent ability to coordinate movements between limbs. Throwing, catching, returning a tennis ball? Short of enlisting FedUp to contract the service, its going to be ugly.
My shins? Typically, the skin tones are shades of blue gray or brownish yellow, signature trait of bananas left lounging on the kitchen counter too long. Thighs? Frequently used bumpers to protect the pelvis from bone to stationary contact. Yet in spite of this lack of grace, I manage to function with the daily assistance of ibuprofen. Muddling through life with the same sense of purpose shared by people less pampered than myself. Functionality magnified by a single mindedness to get things done.
My partner is the opposite. Lean body, sharp reflexes and the ability to coordinate complex series of movements. Not exactly step aerobics, but a natural athleticism accentuated by long limbs and unshakeable confidence, moving both deliberately and unhurriedly.
In a world that favors self-confidence, there are moments when it isn’t good to be him. This weekend he has an unusual run of bad luck.
Friday, I bit him getting out of the shower. I was wringing the last of the water out of my hair, when he handed me a towel, which I didn’t have a free hand to grasp. Reflexively, I opened my mouth to take the towel from him. He extended it to me, and I promptly bit his thumb, which I couldn’t see wrapped wrapped between the fabric layers. Oops.
That afternoon, playing a console game and he managed to torque his back driving a virtual golf ball on the eighteenth green. This after six months of a pain free back. That evening in the bar, a man seated next to him found him to be quite pretty, in a happy three beer I need someone to talk to about anything kind of way.
Saturday evening, tore it. I asked him to pick up a bottle of wine, while I completed dinner preparation. I didn’t anticipate he might return with an entire case. Bent over, yelling into the front door, “Can you help me with this?” Humbling, at least for him. He doesn’t ask for help, he gets defensive when you don’t anticipate he needs it.
This morning I heard him use the plunger handle to lift the lid, because bending at the waist is a non-starter. He’s going to have a long week, and by association, so will I.
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Pictures from the Yosemite trip can be found here.
Oh, man….
Damn. don’t forget you can double or triple the dose of any OTC pain killers to replicate the amount you’d get with a prescription.
I finally got a fairly long night’s sleep, and woke up with my back killing me. Pathetic.
Can’t wait to see the pics. In a few years my kids will be old enough to go to some of the national parks. I’m practically salivating.
long week ahead – good thing there’s a case of wine (to counter the case of whine?). my sympathies.
My sympathies. Next time you bite him i hope it’s more fun.
flutter, fortunately it’s only some days and not every day.
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De, we had the good fortune of discovering a leftover bottle of pain meds from his root canal last year. It’s pretty decent stuff…if it runs out there’s always supersizing the otc stuff.
Yosemite is a fantastic place for families to vacation.
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Bob, there is the wine. The whining is less than anticipated, gotta love those pain meds.
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meno, next time I bite him, I’ll make it worth it.