Bad Girl Kryptonite

Randi got unadopted because she was Bad Girl. In January of 2008, after her near death experience with Earl when they tried to kill each other attatched to a lead, Steff and Pete found a home for Randi. She got adopted to a family with a house on five acres near Fallbrook. It had a lake. It had other dogs. When Randi left Steff said, "If she messes this up she's got rocks for brain."

Scan of Randi's brain.

Randi messed it up. While Clark, Sarah, Earl and I were enjoying a peaceful weekend and imagining our lives as a family of only four, Randi was jumping over fences and knocking down old women. When I went to school, Pete said, "They're bringing her back." And when I got home Randi was once again in the backyard. I think she wanted to get back to Earl. I think she was like, "Man, Earl, you shoulda seen this place. It was the best vacation ever! Next time you have to go!"

I start every morning by reminding Randi that she got unadopted because she was Bad Girl. I say, "Who got unadopted because she was Bad Girl?? Randi. Randi got unadopted because she was Bad Girl." Or "Randi, did you get unadopted? You did get unadopted because you were Bad Girl. Who didn't get unadopted? Earl. Sarah. Clark." Pete says that unadoption happens occasionally, but I think he's just being nice, because who gets unadopted? Anyways, Randi was Bad Girl again yesterday, first by running amok in the house so she was forced to sit outside by herself and then by jumping up on Pete and knocking the three duck eggs he was holding onto the patio.

On the plus side, I think I may have discovered the secret to keeping Randi calm. Or she discovered the secret. She got herself tangled up in the vacuum cleaner cord, again, last night. Only this time it was just loosely hanging around her neck. I couldn't figure out why she was being so calm or why she was staying in the hallway. When my curiosity finally got the better of me, I discovered the cord hanging around her neck. NOTE: She was not in any danger of being strangled. It was barely touching her neck, but it was enough. I may place the vacuum cleaner cord around her more often.

Blame

It just occurred to me that as an educator in this region, I must be partly to blame for the fact that no one seems to know how to spell. Really, if we educators were doing our job properly would it be this bad? (I'd like to think that all these goofballs graduated from GHHS, or VVHS. Surely.) Irregardless, I will consider beginning all French classes with English spelling and grammar lessons. The kind where the sentence starts with irregardless and the students have to figure out what's wrong with it.

Diagnosis Please

What really gets me about this form I had to fill out is how many people had to read through this legal mumble jumbo before it went to print. I did the only thing any respectable person would do. I crossed it out and fixed it. (After seeing they couldn't even spell correctly, I most definitely did not agree to neutral arbitration.)

X-ray of my back

If I could figure out how to get the images from the MRI off the disc they gave me I'd post that too. If you can spell and use words correctly 13.2% of the time then you are qualified to diagnose what is wrong with my back. Just let me know where to send my co-pay.

Physical Therapy

I went to my first physical therapy appointment today. I've felt very little confidence since leaving my P.A. and being referred to the neurologist for my arthritis. My first appointment there was at 8:00am. I arrived at 7:45, but the doctor's office didn't open until 8:00am. I didn't understand how anyone could be on time for an 8:00am appointment when the office hadn't even opened yet. Then the girl in the front office wrote me a card that said my appointment was on "WEND 9:00am." Seriously, if your front officer person doesn't know how to abbreviate WED, confidence is not projected. I mean really. I hate to be the grammar police, but come on! I could understand if you were going to write out Wednesday and were unable to get all the letters in the proper order. It's a difficult word; I don't teach elementary school, but I'm sure it's at least third, fourth grade level which not everyone reaches. But for God's sake, WEND?? Then when I went for my EMG, the doctor, (or whoever) didn't introduce himself and poked me with needles and left me in the room when I thought I was going to faint. So I went to my first physical therapy appointment with trepidation. My appointment was at 10:00am. I got there at 9:45 am. At 10:15 the front office girl made a phone call and said, "I'm just wondering where you are because both of your new patients are here." I became concerned and annoyed and very thankful I had brought a book. Also, the girls in the office referred to her as "She." As in, "She wanted it like that. She said no." At 10:25 a lady showed up, and said "Thompson?" Didn't introduce herself. Didn't call me by name. Asked me what I was seeing her for and without looking at my paperwork, She proceeded to tell me what was wrong with my back. Scoliosis and which exercises to do and that I should join a gym and lose weight and get some exercise and take brisk walks. If I'd had feeling in my leg, I might have kicked her in the head. I am particularly sensitive to the assumption that I don't get any exercise, because though I know I look like I just sit around and shovel in the bear claws three at a time, I'm pretty darn active. (I wanted to yell, "Yesterday I biked 18 miles, ran a mile, lifted weights, swam and did yoga, how much more fucking exercise do I need?" And so then I was just pissed. I said, rather harshly, "I can't walk! I can't walk from here to the street without my leg going numb!" She said, "Blah, blah, blah, blah" and had some other girl show me some exercises I already do. I was done with physical therapy at that point and had to exercise my be courteous and polite skills, which involves me not talking at all and answering in one word grunts, so as not to be obnoxious. Why should I pay $10 to go do something I can do at my house? Then I had to spend another hour on the phone trying to get a referral to a different physical therapist and my MRI arranged which is WEND @ 12:30.

Also, there was a rather nasty verbal altercation in the Little Backyard this afternoon. I intercede moments before, I believe, the head bobbing would have resulted in UFC Deux- Uncaged and Free Range. What the heck could they be fighting about?

Randi being Randi in all her Randi-ness.

FYI

Do not enter into a staring contest with a duck. They don't blink and you will lose. (No alcohol involved.)

Voir Dire- French for my cash cow

It has became increasing clear that without mood enhancers/pain killers I would be incapable of finishing this jury Powerpoint for the Big Guy with both of my eyes still intact. Since I was out of gin, I tried to get Earl to give up the location of his pot stash. He would not. I tried to tickle it out of him, since he is highly ticklish. (All dogs have the special spot on their belly, but Earl is ticklish everywhere. On his nose, behind his ears, the pads of his feet. In fact I suspect he chews on his feet so much because he likes tickling himself while he does it.) I'd have waved cash in his face, but I didn't have any and he went back to sleep, so I gave up and went to Wal-Mart thinking I could get some alcohol there. Turns out the hard liquor is sold in the same aisle as the school supplies. Quite convenient, but apparently lots of people have Powerpoints to work on because Wal-Mart was out of gin. I did get some at the grocery store, 750 ml, which should get me through 119 slides. God, I hope.

I told the Big Guy that I'm going to turn this into a money maker by printing all the Batson-Watson-Wilson Rules onto a 3x5 card that I will sell outside the courthouse to potential jurors who wish to shirk their civic and constitutional duties. I didn't tell him that once I make my millions I would buy him a new motor home. I want it to be a surprise. My other scheme is to get the Big Guy to take me to the conference as his "assistant" to help him. In exchange he can buy all my dinners and gin and tonics and introduce me to all of the single lawyers there. I'm sure he will see that it is a win-win situation for him. No one will know he didn't do his own Powerpoint and my mom will get to make a wedding dress.

Quasimodo

In a turn of events, today, I am the damn disaster. Last night I whacked my knee on the coffee table letting Earl out so he could bark at nothing. Today my knee is swollen to the point of limited motion and just the thought of bike riding is painful. On top of that, my arthritis, or bulging disc, or herniated disc or old age has reduced me to a hunchback that can't sit or lay comfortably. I am a limping hunchback with the only thing to look forward to is a long day of formatting my dad's jury Powerpoint. (An upside is now I can tell people exactly what to do to not get picked for a jury.)