Wounded But Game, The Dead Hero Carries On

The title is a quote from the classic comic strip Pogo, by the inimitable  Walt Kelly.  The strip was published during the 1950’s and 1960’s and is noted for its scathing political satire (Lyndon B. Johnson appeared in the strip as a longhorn steer called “The Loan Arranger,” Spiro Agnew was depicted as a hyena, and Khruschev was depicted as a pig who hijacked Santa Claus and started his own service) and  soaring flights of whimsy (such as a discussion on grammar involving among other things, the past aloofable tense and an octopus, a couple of pages of tomfoolery with a fake door that has to be one of the funniest bits of slapstick I’ve ever encountered.)  Kelly was an animator for Walt Disney before he became a newspaper cartoonist, and his drawing skills, especially the facial expressions, are superb, but for its wit and word-play, his dialogue is sheer brilliance.  Pogo was a newspaper cartoon, but Kelly pioneered the practice of publishing a year’s worth of strips in a paperback volume, as well as a 10-year retrospective of “the greatest of” sequences.  (These drawings are Kelly’s and are all © to his estate.)

Yesterday turned out to be a busy day.  I decided that since the trained chimpanzee (me) had to go show my mom how to use her new flip phone,

which was not exactly like her old one, I decided I would do some other outing and abouting before-hand.  So, I showered, washed my hair, got dressed, and suited up in mask and gloves.  As I was stepping off the front porch, I saw there was a pair of secateurs (one-handed pruning shears) lying out in the grass just off the walkway.  I figured they belonged to my neighbor, who takes care of the yard for the duplex, and went round to put them on the little brick wall on her side where she could find them again.

One of the places I intended to go was the hair salon to get split ends trimmed, so my hair was wet, down and blowing around my face when I walked back around to the garage to get the car.  I couldn’t really see where I was going and I forgot about the parking bumper in between the two garages (which really ought to be painted for visibility), caught it with my foot and fell flat.

Because I was already turning toward the garage when I fell, I landed on the flat of my left forearm with my body slightly turned to the left. I can’t believe how lucky I was.  I didn’t land on my hip, or my (replaced) knee, or my elbow.  My flat forearm and my hand holding the flashlight on my key ring are what took the impact.  Because I was wearing those disposable vinyl gloves, what little skin I lost was from impact avulsion rather than concrete abrasion, but the owie on the index finger drew blood and I got a jolly little blood blister on the top joint of my ring finger.  This is the total extent of my injuries!  I don’t have any bruising anywhere else, not even on my forearm.  The muscles along my left upper ribcage are a little sore from my shoulder muscles absorbing the shock of my landing, but other than that, I got off dead lucky!

I held my face mask on with my hand to get my hair cut, and got a manicure (I get hangnails so badly anymore it’s worth it to get a professional manicure once a month).  Then I went to my Mom’s to transfer the SIM card to her new 4G flip phone (the old one was 3G and was obsolescing soon). I did end up having to re-enter my mom’s phone book into her new phone, and we had to set the ring tone on stun so she could hear it.  Then we had to call each other to make sure it worked.  Then she had to call herself to make sure she knew how to work it.   Considering my cultural context, every time I see that phone, you know what I think of.

And, of course, Mom and I had to sit and have a schmooze so it was upwards of 4:30 by the time I was ready to wend my way homeward.  I took the scenic route by the Dairy Queen that’s about a block away from my mom’s house.  Seems there was a chicken strips basket that needed a good home . . .

I took a couple of acetaminophen before I went to bed, and I’m hardly sore at all today.  My ring finger is not too thrilled about typing (w, s, x, ALT), but thankfully, the touch on my Logitech gamer keyboard is very light.  Unfortunately, I knit continental style, and my wounded index finger is the finger I tension my yarn around. (I’m seriously thinking about checking to see if I have a Band-Aid “dot” that will fit, or else making a DIY Band-Aid with some paper tape with a little piece of tissue over the scab to keep it from sticking to the tape, just so I can knit. )

Speaking of knitting, look at this.  Is this not entirely too cool?  It’s a shawl with a sleeve at each end.  You put on one sleeve, wrap the shawl bit around your shoulders, then put on the other sleeve.  There’s pattern$ for them, and they $ell them ready made, but how hard would it be to just take a tape measure and a swatch for gauge and make one?  It’d take a lot of yarn, though.  Probably  a bit more than a sweater’s quantity.  It’d also take quite a while to knit.  I see where Joanne’s has Lion Brand “Pound of Love” yarn on sale — that’s 1020 yard skeins for less than $8 a pop (they’re usually more like $12).  Hmmmm. . . .

Oh, nuts.  A gnat.  The durn little gnusiance has been buzzing me since I sat down to type.  Some people call them ‘no-see-ums.’  Since this is a family blog, I’m not going to tell you what I call them!

This being Sunday, and in view of my Saturday, I think this is apropos:

Another shameless plug for my creative writing blog, A Box of Special Things.  Not going to promise how often I’ll post to it.  If you subscribe to it (or any of my blogs), you’ll get an email notification of new posts.

Author: WOL

My burrow, "La Maison du Hibou Sous Terre" is located on the flatlands of West Texas where I live with my computer, my books, and a lot of yarn waiting to become something.

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