|Well, at least I'm saving on mulch...
||[Oct. 2nd, 2007|08:36 am]
Another week with no rain forecasted. Ugh. I've already told the garden and the yard "Hey, see ya next year, I am sooo done with watering!" Hey, the whole everything's dead look will work well for Halloween...
Thanks to the lack of rain and the foot-shuffling patrons at Maryland, I have been able to save my Kleenex and simply toss them in the garden, thereby saving myself a trip to the Despot to buy bags of mulch. (Do the Smiths know that I'm smuggling their mulch out in my sinuses?)
Those of you familiar with the amusing car color will appreciate: a certain friend of mine was gifted with a new pair of shoes...and they're SEMEN-colored...because it's the only color they...
This weekend's stupidest question asked by a patron: So, these two roads (on either side of the pirate camp), will we see different things on each one?
No. It's all the same. We just do the booths in different colors so you THINK it's different.
I am grateful today that the hip issue of this past weekend that turned me into a pirate gimp...that would be "pejorative term for someone with a disability, especially of the legs" as opposed to the Pulp Fiction character, or the crafting material...seems to be resolving itself, with that part of my body now hurting about as much as everything else does. Still have no idea how it happened, although could it have been the the magic pirate chair ride?
Those damn chairs. You've seen them in the Pyrate camp. Oh, they're so clever, with their two simple boards that slot into one another, storing fiendishly efficiently, setting up quickly and providing "instant chair"!
Bastards. A bear trap would provide me with fewer opportunities to hurt myself. I don't know. Everyone else seems to be able to just sit down in them. First I had to learn to ease myself down carefully, since clearly my ass has a depth perception problem as well (which means it's not my eyesight, but my brain...for those of you who are neuro-geeks...) since I'm never quite sure when the chair will connect, where it will connect and if I'm not centered right, whee, topple over we go...with all the resultant trauma of wrenching the back trying to to do it, getting trapped under it, taking prisoners as we go, etc. Not to mention, if you don't lean back fast enough, if your center of gravity is just a hair too forward, the expletive deleted will toss you forward, coming with you just enough to whack you on the back of the head.
So, I learned to lower myself gingerly, lowering myself like a...well, I'm having so much fun with similes in my head right now, you go ahead and fill in your own, I haven't thought of a worksafe one yet. And then I get down there and realize that it's not even comfortable...
And then getting out of one...an almost guaranteed knee wrench. I mean, for crying out loud, I'm used to straddling and swinging in and out of a...saddle, you perverts, on a horse! But there's something about these "chairs"...the low center of gravity maybe? Or, they just hate me.
So, having spent a season and half learning that really, I should just treat them as shin-bruising objets d'art, last weekend I was suffering a fit of tabula rasa (which is so much more erudite than CRS, don't you think?) and actually sat down in one backwards...which frankly, puts my center of gravity where it belongs, directly underneath me. Except of course, the chair was waiting for me and as soon as my balance deviated a hair behind center, well, the end was inevitable. I'm proud that my sense of self preservation defaulted to "oh, just go with it, it just hurts more if you struggle" and I slowly fell straight backwards, flat on my back onto the deck. It didn't seem to hurt, but perhaps it was more jarring than I thought. I was disappointed in the lack of applause and laughter -- after all, if I'm going to embarrass myself and even possibly injure myself, SOMEONE should get some joy from it. Although I was congratulated on having a good an effortless fall...which salved my pride some.
Now let's just see if I can remember that for me, really, there is NO safe way to sit in those damn things.