The other day I went down to the basement to wash some clothes.
I had a shirt in my hand which I threw in the basket and happened to catch a fire extinguisher that was sitting on the last stair. The extinguisher was lifted into the air by the shirt sleeve and came crashing down directly onto my second toe on my right foot.
This is the first time I have broken that toe on that foot, but I have broken most of my toes on my left foot through the years.
This toe break was exceptionally painful. Don't get me wrong, it hurts really bad every single time, yet this time, it seemed as though it was more painful than I have recalled.
Once I broke the last three toes on my left foot when I accidentally kicked the metal leg of a dinning room table. This was actually a few years ago, so the pain of that event may have been mitigated over the years.
I hate any type of physical or emotional pain, and I will avoid it at any cost. This is the reason I want to predecease everyone in my family, as I really don't want to have to emotionally negotiate the death of any one close to me.
In any event, toe breaking was intricate part of my existence in my twenties and even into my early thirties.
Yet somehow I was able to overcome what had become dangerously close to a habit. I started to wear shoes all the time and this actually seemed to help. What remains unclear to me is why it was that I tended to slam my feet into furniture at such a velocity that I was breaking bones.
This is the first toe I have broken in my 40's, and the circumstances around this particular injury were flukish in nature, the way the fire extinguisher was catapulted into the air and then right down onto my toe. My foot against the cement and the end of that heavy extinguisher, I was fortunate it was not more serious. I struggle with balance with 5 toes, it would be quite challenging for me to loose one, or even loose 1/2 of a toe.
When i was in the sixth grade I stepped on a piece of glass while visiting my Aunt Rose in Des Moines. This unfortunately resulted in a loss of feeling in some of my toes on the my left foot, so I have had issues with toes and feet for many years now.
As a result of these tragic events I rarely wear open toed shoes, however Gioconda has this terrible habit of wearing very unsafe foot covering.
Once while we were cleaning out the garage with tools, and saws and heavy stuff that would actually sever your foot from your body, she insisted in wearing flip flops. I was a nervous wreck all day. I think she does it now just to spite me.
"You are always so concerned about my foot safety and here you are the one with the broken toe," she said after I told her how the accident happened and she calmed down from laughing long enough to begin speaking again.
Today I accidently hit my injured toe against the girls little wagon. The pain was overwhelming to the point I couldn't talk for a few minutes. Thats the tough part about broken toes, I tend to break them over and over
So it looks as though I am back to wearing shoes all the time.
Still where is the disconnect? Why don't I have more control over my own feet. I have taken a informal poll and have found most people don't have this problem, those without a seizure disorder don't seem to have a problem with slamming their feet into stationary objects.
So here I am again with another broken toe- and its my birthday- and although I would like to find a significance in that fact, I can't...
Here is hoping I got this years toe break out of the way...
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
I got twenty bucks that says....
I hate board games.
The other night Gioconda and Aidan were playing Scrabble, which I particularly detest, and they are arguing because Aidan kept wanting to use names like Roater , which he insisted was a name of some celebrity's kid and Gioconda wanted to use Spanish words, which in the end is just cheating. Don't get me wrong, I think cheating is fine, but to what end?
After all the bickering one person gets to say they won, it just didn't seem worth the effort. Gioconda spends hours playing a game called Bejeweled. Everyone here at 2107 is into one game or another.
Really? Unless there are little round chips with dollar signs out in front of me before the cards are dealt, I'm not playing.
I see no point in playing any type of game unless it is for the purposes of gambling.
Yet, when it comes to gambling there is basically nothing I wouldn't place a wager.
"I got twenty bucks that says Floyd Mayweather will not fight Manny Pacquiao," I offered last night at dinner. No takers.
In reality, I have no idea if this fight will ever take place, and I really don't care, but sometimes I'll just throw out a wager to add some credibility to my particular position.
I will say most of the folks living here at 2107 are competitive, yet generally they don't like to make bets they are not certain they can win.
"No takers?, " I said knowing there was no way anyone was going to take that action, although everyone (Aidan, Christian, and Aidan's friend Andy) insisted Mayweather would fight and beat Pacquiao.
"No guts, no glory, I'll go fifty" I said. Still nothing.
Unfortunately, this is a pretty good bet which means here at 2107 no one will take it, except for Gioconda who just takes the bet to shut me up.
"Ok, I'll bet with you, whatever you said," she finally relented, which really isn't much fun, as its not very interesting to bet with someone who doesn't even know what they are betting on.
I particularly like to wager with Aidan, as he is more competitive than the other boys and he really seems to hate loosing, which makes any victory that much sweeter.
I loose bets all the time, so I'm just not that invested, but with him any loss is a real kick to the balls. I never take his money, as it doesn't seem quite right to take money from a 14 year old, the fact that I won the money without actual collection is enough. Sometimes we will double up, and if I win a couple of bets I'll make a sucker bet to get him off the hook.
I know, not taking the money doesn't exactly mitigate the fact I derive so much pleasure from winning a bet on the basis that the person I am betting with REALLY CARES about winning- because three years ago he was eleven...
Still, I can't help myself because 35 years ago I was eleven.
The other night Gioconda and Aidan were playing Scrabble, which I particularly detest, and they are arguing because Aidan kept wanting to use names like Roater , which he insisted was a name of some celebrity's kid and Gioconda wanted to use Spanish words, which in the end is just cheating. Don't get me wrong, I think cheating is fine, but to what end?
After all the bickering one person gets to say they won, it just didn't seem worth the effort. Gioconda spends hours playing a game called Bejeweled. Everyone here at 2107 is into one game or another.
Really? Unless there are little round chips with dollar signs out in front of me before the cards are dealt, I'm not playing.
I see no point in playing any type of game unless it is for the purposes of gambling.
Yet, when it comes to gambling there is basically nothing I wouldn't place a wager.
"I got twenty bucks that says Floyd Mayweather will not fight Manny Pacquiao," I offered last night at dinner. No takers.
In reality, I have no idea if this fight will ever take place, and I really don't care, but sometimes I'll just throw out a wager to add some credibility to my particular position.
I will say most of the folks living here at 2107 are competitive, yet generally they don't like to make bets they are not certain they can win.
"No takers?, " I said knowing there was no way anyone was going to take that action, although everyone (Aidan, Christian, and Aidan's friend Andy) insisted Mayweather would fight and beat Pacquiao.
"No guts, no glory, I'll go fifty" I said. Still nothing.
Unfortunately, this is a pretty good bet which means here at 2107 no one will take it, except for Gioconda who just takes the bet to shut me up.
"Ok, I'll bet with you, whatever you said," she finally relented, which really isn't much fun, as its not very interesting to bet with someone who doesn't even know what they are betting on.
I particularly like to wager with Aidan, as he is more competitive than the other boys and he really seems to hate loosing, which makes any victory that much sweeter.
I loose bets all the time, so I'm just not that invested, but with him any loss is a real kick to the balls. I never take his money, as it doesn't seem quite right to take money from a 14 year old, the fact that I won the money without actual collection is enough. Sometimes we will double up, and if I win a couple of bets I'll make a sucker bet to get him off the hook.
I know, not taking the money doesn't exactly mitigate the fact I derive so much pleasure from winning a bet on the basis that the person I am betting with REALLY CARES about winning- because three years ago he was eleven...
Still, I can't help myself because 35 years ago I was eleven.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Mt. Everest
Tonight I was considering my various obsessions.
Unfortunately, I dug up an old one I had forgotten about for the last year or so, my obsession with Mt. Everest. It began with the Jon Krakauer's book "Into Thin Air" which is his first hand account of the 1996 Everest Disaster. A few months after reading the book I somehow became acquainted with a woman who had traveled to the base camp at Everest on the Tibetan side.
She told me about how she trained to hike just to the base camp, and about the altitude sickness she suffered, how it was a difficult trip that she was glad she had made, but would never do it again.
The impossibility of even her journey seemed intriguing. So, I start reading books about Everest and Sir Edger Hillary, I went to see the IMAX movie made DURING the 1996 disaster. Krakaurer's book was made into a terrible TV movie that I watched of course.
So, I really didn't want to go to see Mt. Everest, I didn't really even have that much interest in Mt. Everest, yet I was compelled to think about it and read about what I could find. I thought about traveling to Mt. Everest, and trying to make it to base camp. I thought a lot about the sense of accomplishment one must feel at the summit of the highest point on earth.
A sense accomplishment I have no desire to try to obtain, but I am compelled to consider the possibility -- the possibility of doing something I would utterly detest. This is what makes it an obsession.
And it was really bad until around 1999, and then it just went away for a while until I met Natalie Winnas.
Natalie Winnas is this terrific facialist in Long Beach that I began to go to around 2000. It turns about Natalie Winnas has a sister who works as an assistant to Sandy Hill Pittman. Sandy Hill Pittman is a millionairess who was one of the survivors of the 1996 disaster and was highly criticized in Krakauer's book.
So what is the fucking chance of that....Every time I see Natalie I innocently slip Sandy Hill Pittman into the conversation so I can see if she can give me any information on her. I'm certain she knew what I was doing and she was a good sport about it.
"So does Sandy Hill Pittman have all her toes?" I asked.
"I think she does, but I have never seen her in sandals, but she does have all her fingers and both thumbs," Natalie replied.
Once after I told her I was a bit depressed she told me about a party at Sandy Hill Pittman's in which a little rodeo was presented as entertainment with a fireworks show for the finale. It did lift my mood a bit.
These little glimpse into the life of Sandy Hill Pittman kept the obsession going until a year after I moved from Long Beach, and i didn't see Natalie as often.
I had basically forgotten about it, until tonight when I began counting my obsessions, and this one came up.
Since Gioconda is not as forthright about her neurosis I asked her if she had anything she was obsessed with.
"No," she replied without hesitation.
" How many strollers do we have?" I asked.
"I may have an issue with strollers," she conceeded.
"An issue? We have six double strollers. That is a total of six stroller purchases, we have more money sunk into strollers than one of our cars," I replied.
"Yes, but at least I don't have to think about climbing Mt. Everst, and getting a sherpa and maybe even dying while trying to do something sort of stupid," she said.
She's right. I would be so much better served by having a more simplistic obsession.
At some point we will run out of double strollers to buy.
Unfortunately, I dug up an old one I had forgotten about for the last year or so, my obsession with Mt. Everest. It began with the Jon Krakauer's book "Into Thin Air" which is his first hand account of the 1996 Everest Disaster. A few months after reading the book I somehow became acquainted with a woman who had traveled to the base camp at Everest on the Tibetan side.
She told me about how she trained to hike just to the base camp, and about the altitude sickness she suffered, how it was a difficult trip that she was glad she had made, but would never do it again.
The impossibility of even her journey seemed intriguing. So, I start reading books about Everest and Sir Edger Hillary, I went to see the IMAX movie made DURING the 1996 disaster. Krakaurer's book was made into a terrible TV movie that I watched of course.
So, I really didn't want to go to see Mt. Everest, I didn't really even have that much interest in Mt. Everest, yet I was compelled to think about it and read about what I could find. I thought about traveling to Mt. Everest, and trying to make it to base camp. I thought a lot about the sense of accomplishment one must feel at the summit of the highest point on earth.
A sense accomplishment I have no desire to try to obtain, but I am compelled to consider the possibility -- the possibility of doing something I would utterly detest. This is what makes it an obsession.
And it was really bad until around 1999, and then it just went away for a while until I met Natalie Winnas.
Natalie Winnas is this terrific facialist in Long Beach that I began to go to around 2000. It turns about Natalie Winnas has a sister who works as an assistant to Sandy Hill Pittman. Sandy Hill Pittman is a millionairess who was one of the survivors of the 1996 disaster and was highly criticized in Krakauer's book.
So what is the fucking chance of that....Every time I see Natalie I innocently slip Sandy Hill Pittman into the conversation so I can see if she can give me any information on her. I'm certain she knew what I was doing and she was a good sport about it.
"So does Sandy Hill Pittman have all her toes?" I asked.
"I think she does, but I have never seen her in sandals, but she does have all her fingers and both thumbs," Natalie replied.
Once after I told her I was a bit depressed she told me about a party at Sandy Hill Pittman's in which a little rodeo was presented as entertainment with a fireworks show for the finale. It did lift my mood a bit.
These little glimpse into the life of Sandy Hill Pittman kept the obsession going until a year after I moved from Long Beach, and i didn't see Natalie as often.
I had basically forgotten about it, until tonight when I began counting my obsessions, and this one came up.
Since Gioconda is not as forthright about her neurosis I asked her if she had anything she was obsessed with.
"No," she replied without hesitation.
" How many strollers do we have?" I asked.
"I may have an issue with strollers," she conceeded.
"An issue? We have six double strollers. That is a total of six stroller purchases, we have more money sunk into strollers than one of our cars," I replied.
"Yes, but at least I don't have to think about climbing Mt. Everst, and getting a sherpa and maybe even dying while trying to do something sort of stupid," she said.
She's right. I would be so much better served by having a more simplistic obsession.
At some point we will run out of double strollers to buy.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Lost and Stolen Items
I lost my keys today.
This is really nothing new, I loose stuff all the time, and most of the time I find what I thought was gone.
But this time, I am pretty certain these keys are really- really gone.
I'm actually very upset about loosing my keys and Gioconda won't talk to me about it.
"How much more can you say about it? Your not helping anything," she said.
I just hadn't said enough about it. I find when bad things happen I allow myself a 5-9 hour window in which I have to process the event, and this process does include talking. So, I am trying to move past it, having just been given 1/2 hour to process this misfortune.
This is a guilty confession, most of the time, meaning almost all the time, when I can't find something I am convinced the item has been stolen from me.
Don't get me wrong, there has been plenty is misappropriation here at 2107, but admittedly less than my suspicions.
A few months ago I picked up some clothes at the dry cleaners which I thought should have included a pair of jeans I left for altering. When I discovered the jeans were not in my order I made my conclusion in an instant, my jeans had been stolen.
So, I end up telling the owner that his worker must have stolen my jeans because I was certain I brought them in, although I didn't have a receipt...which to my thinking was all a part of the caper- the worker who took my jeans didn't give me a receipt- and of course I didn't pay attention...and then I went home and found the jeans.
And one would think I would change as a result of this little lesson in making accusations , but it didn't. When I can't find something my first thought is "what fucker took the charger to the electric screw driver..." And there is no lead up, when something is missing I am immediately pissed- mostly pissed at whoever took the remote to the dvd player.
But today I lost my keys...and I'm almost certain I only have myself to blame.
This is really nothing new, I loose stuff all the time, and most of the time I find what I thought was gone.
But this time, I am pretty certain these keys are really- really gone.
I'm actually very upset about loosing my keys and Gioconda won't talk to me about it.
"How much more can you say about it? Your not helping anything," she said.
I just hadn't said enough about it. I find when bad things happen I allow myself a 5-9 hour window in which I have to process the event, and this process does include talking. So, I am trying to move past it, having just been given 1/2 hour to process this misfortune.
This is a guilty confession, most of the time, meaning almost all the time, when I can't find something I am convinced the item has been stolen from me.
Don't get me wrong, there has been plenty is misappropriation here at 2107, but admittedly less than my suspicions.
A few months ago I picked up some clothes at the dry cleaners which I thought should have included a pair of jeans I left for altering. When I discovered the jeans were not in my order I made my conclusion in an instant, my jeans had been stolen.
So, I end up telling the owner that his worker must have stolen my jeans because I was certain I brought them in, although I didn't have a receipt...which to my thinking was all a part of the caper- the worker who took my jeans didn't give me a receipt- and of course I didn't pay attention...and then I went home and found the jeans.
And one would think I would change as a result of this little lesson in making accusations , but it didn't. When I can't find something my first thought is "what fucker took the charger to the electric screw driver..." And there is no lead up, when something is missing I am immediately pissed- mostly pissed at whoever took the remote to the dvd player.
But today I lost my keys...and I'm almost certain I only have myself to blame.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
NOT ABOUT GIOCONDA
My brother-in- law knows a guy who plays poker for a living.
This particular guy goes to local card clubs, that's his job- a professional poker player.
There is this guy at the Santa Anita Track named Jimmy the Hat, his job- bets on horse races- that's his job. One day a few years back he made over a million dollars in one day...
My question- how do you get good at this shit?
I have never understand how a person is able to actually make a living off games of chance.
Whatever it takes, I don't seem to have it. I have studied the racing forms, used tip sheets, I even read "Horse Racing for Dummies"- and it has been overwhelmingly in effective in regard to my ability to pick a winner.
I have read books about craps, poker, black jack- even slots- yes, I read a book about slots- and my abilities have not improved nor has my fundamental understanding of any of those games grown.
How do you change the cards you are dealt? The cards we are dealt. I think about that a lot actually, how one person is born into poverty, or more interesting one of the faction of the population born in wealth. That actually what I think about, what it would be like to have been born into great wealth.
Maybe I would have been a drug addict, or a neuro surgeon, who knows. I would like to think I would embrace any opportunity being the daughter of JFK would bring, yet the reality is I could certainly end up being the one who skied into a tree.
"You spend more time and energy thinking about winning money than any other person I have ever known,"said a person who lives at this house*.
I know, spend the time and energy actually making money. The problem is, I want more money than I can possibly earn in my lifetime. I want millions, and I want to do little or nothing to earn it.
If only...if only I knew interesting people and if I could write about their zany antics I could sell this blog and earn those millions.
* Tonight Gioconda informed me she does not want her name used in the blog any longer. Further she requested any prior mention of her be blacked out with a sharpie- the way they do in communist countries-I told her I would be blogging about the fact she doesn't want me to blog about her.
This particular guy goes to local card clubs, that's his job- a professional poker player.
There is this guy at the Santa Anita Track named Jimmy the Hat, his job- bets on horse races- that's his job. One day a few years back he made over a million dollars in one day...
My question- how do you get good at this shit?
I have never understand how a person is able to actually make a living off games of chance.
Whatever it takes, I don't seem to have it. I have studied the racing forms, used tip sheets, I even read "Horse Racing for Dummies"- and it has been overwhelmingly in effective in regard to my ability to pick a winner.
I have read books about craps, poker, black jack- even slots- yes, I read a book about slots- and my abilities have not improved nor has my fundamental understanding of any of those games grown.
How do you change the cards you are dealt? The cards we are dealt. I think about that a lot actually, how one person is born into poverty, or more interesting one of the faction of the population born in wealth. That actually what I think about, what it would be like to have been born into great wealth.
Maybe I would have been a drug addict, or a neuro surgeon, who knows. I would like to think I would embrace any opportunity being the daughter of JFK would bring, yet the reality is I could certainly end up being the one who skied into a tree.
"You spend more time and energy thinking about winning money than any other person I have ever known,"said a person who lives at this house*.
I know, spend the time and energy actually making money. The problem is, I want more money than I can possibly earn in my lifetime. I want millions, and I want to do little or nothing to earn it.
If only...if only I knew interesting people and if I could write about their zany antics I could sell this blog and earn those millions.
* Tonight Gioconda informed me she does not want her name used in the blog any longer. Further she requested any prior mention of her be blacked out with a sharpie- the way they do in communist countries-I told her I would be blogging about the fact she doesn't want me to blog about her.
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