P- ARRRRRRR- P!
Sep. 19th, 2010 01:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
captainsblogThat's the answer. The question is, how does a drugged-up person talk on Talk Like A Pirate Day?
Neither of us actually is drugged-up, but we could just as well be.
Last night's entry here, finally posted at 9:17 p.m., was already begun shortly after 6. I'd just returned home from the gym, fed the aminals, and checked on what Eleanor was up to. A beautiful-looking meal of roasted chicken and potatoes, along with the innards of this squash, is what. (And yes, despite what is to follow, we saved the seeds and![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
horizonchaser, and anyone else who gets here soon enough, will be can-having them in their mail soon.) Sadly, there will be no pictures of last night's final product, because a few lines in to my last entry, my presence in the bathroom was rather urgently requested.
Eleanor had opened up quite the gusher on her left thumb, but was being so calm about the whole thing, and had the wound so well-packed before I even saw it, I had no idea what was going on. When I did, I rather panicked, and wasn't much damn help for the rest of the triage and the ensuing meal.
In time, I figured out both what had happened to her- using a knife, rather than a coin, to open one of those stupid child-protective battery covers from the back of a meat thermometer is not a Best Practice- but also what had happened to me. I don't deal well with unexpected situations, and while I've gotten better at the less painful ones (I make just-as-embarrassing movements at the gym on a weekly basis and have learned to laugh them off), when pain and blood are involved- especially those of one I love- I revert to a fairly useless state.
I got past that, and Eleanor is slowly getting past the more literally painful aspects of it. She'll likely be off work for a few days, but it doesn't look like stitches or Lortabs are in her immediate future.
----
Blessedly, we had good stuff for distraction purposes last night: Millennium Actress got here the other day, and My Gawd is it a beautifully drawn, gorgeously soundtracked and multiply layered gem of an animated film. It played on US screens for about three seconds back in 2001, but ranks among the best of the genre that I have ever seen. Sadly, it took the recent death of its director, Satoshi Kon, to bring it to my attention, but I am so glad we finally got to see it. I will mail the Netflix back to Emily rather than to the home office, so she can see it too before sending it back to their shipping place (which she can practically walk to).
----
Another Sunday, another fish tank cleaning. Plus Da Bills to listen to, which will be about as pleasant.
Neither of us actually is drugged-up, but we could just as well be.
Last night's entry here, finally posted at 9:17 p.m., was already begun shortly after 6. I'd just returned home from the gym, fed the aminals, and checked on what Eleanor was up to. A beautiful-looking meal of roasted chicken and potatoes, along with the innards of this squash, is what. (And yes, despite what is to follow, we saved the seeds and
horizonchaser, and anyone else who gets here soon enough, will be can-having them in their mail soon.) Sadly, there will be no pictures of last night's final product, because a few lines in to my last entry, my presence in the bathroom was rather urgently requested.Eleanor had opened up quite the gusher on her left thumb, but was being so calm about the whole thing, and had the wound so well-packed before I even saw it, I had no idea what was going on. When I did, I rather panicked, and wasn't much damn help for the rest of the triage and the ensuing meal.
In time, I figured out both what had happened to her- using a knife, rather than a coin, to open one of those stupid child-protective battery covers from the back of a meat thermometer is not a Best Practice- but also what had happened to me. I don't deal well with unexpected situations, and while I've gotten better at the less painful ones (I make just-as-embarrassing movements at the gym on a weekly basis and have learned to laugh them off), when pain and blood are involved- especially those of one I love- I revert to a fairly useless state.
I got past that, and Eleanor is slowly getting past the more literally painful aspects of it. She'll likely be off work for a few days, but it doesn't look like stitches or Lortabs are in her immediate future.
----
Blessedly, we had good stuff for distraction purposes last night: Millennium Actress got here the other day, and My Gawd is it a beautifully drawn, gorgeously soundtracked and multiply layered gem of an animated film. It played on US screens for about three seconds back in 2001, but ranks among the best of the genre that I have ever seen. Sadly, it took the recent death of its director, Satoshi Kon, to bring it to my attention, but I am so glad we finally got to see it. I will mail the Netflix back to Emily rather than to the home office, so she can see it too before sending it back to their shipping place (which she can practically walk to).
----
Another Sunday, another fish tank cleaning. Plus Da Bills to listen to, which will be about as pleasant.
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no subject
Date: 2010-09-19 06:53 pm (UTC)>.< Ouch! Hope her finger is better quickly!
no subject
Date: 2010-09-19 08:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-19 09:35 pm (UTC)"Speak for yourself, swabbie," said she. "Did ye clap an eye on me Facebook wall?"
Oh. Darn, I'm always the last to get these things. Still, thanks you you, I did find out before tomorrow.
Hope Eleanor's feeling better. Knives are not screwdrivers! (Says the guy who still has a scar on his thumb.)
no subject
Date: 2010-09-19 10:39 pm (UTC)A few weeks ago, we loaned Eleanor's truck to a friend, and I wound up driving Lisa's car for the day. It was much like mine, but one very visible difference (to me, anyway) was an obvious idiot-light over the tranny noting that the passenger-seat airbag had been disabled.
Huh? Mind you, Lisa was borrowing the truck to take her only kid off to college, and far as I know she doesn't transport any tiny nieces or nephews in forward-facing car seats. I suspect it was either pre-set that way at the factory, or set by the prior owner, and nobody ever bothered to turn it back on. How bizarre.
Then again, I'm convinced that the means of my own death someday is gonna be an explosive car crash caused by me entangling my cell phone headset cord in my seat belt while trying to answer a call: "RAY S____, LAWYER, 5_; KILLED BY SAFETY DEVICES"
no subject
Date: 2010-09-20 12:02 am (UTC)