Delayed Reflexes

Daisy This is my friend Paige's dog, Daisy. Every time I come to the house, the dog comes to the door to greet me, tail wagging. She sniffs me and follows me closely, all excited as I enter the house. I kneel down to greet and pet her while she leans into the attention. It's not until I sit down to visit that she starts the howling. She howls at me as if I'm an intruder beating her family. Her howls take her front two feet off of the ground as she raises her head and stretches her neck to find the deepest, loudest howl she can muster. You know, because I have offended her and must be punished.

At first, I thought it was just me. That was until another friend of ours came in a bit after my arrival and got the same treatment. Same happy greeting, tail wagging, loving dog until about 2 minutes in. Then the "get out of my house" serenade.

After the guests have come in and the howling has subsided, usually someone in the family will mumble, "It's a little late, Daisy." They think she's just slow.

I think she's just hopeful that everyone coming to visit is there to visit her. Once the petting and attention we pay to her end with the greeting, it is then that we are no longer useful to her. We serve no other purpose than to take her family's love and attention away. She doesn't know it's ever going to end. So, it's obviously time for the guest to leave. Thus the barking/howling/crying.

This dog has been severely underestimated.


My Way

The dryer buzzes. I ask him if he'll help me fold the clothes so we can put in the next load even faster. He sweetly agrees. We drag ourselves to the dryer to fold the load of towels it holds. It's late but we totally need the quilt (currently in the washer) to get a night of sound sleep.

I start folding. He starts folding. We're both folding towels and washcloths, yawning. Then I look over. He's doing it wrong. All of the edges don't line up and the crease isn't there. He doesn't even put it on the pile of all of the other folded towels in the correct way.

He catches me watching him and he stops. He holds up his towel with a humble smirk and says, "I just can't do it like you do it." He feebly tries to *snap* the towel folded as I do and laughs. We both laugh.

I can't believe he loves me anyway.



Happy Birthday Katheryn.


Illegal Block In The Back

This is my back. With tape.

This is my back after that tape was ripped off. Nice, isn't it?

A couple of months ago I started to experience a small pain in the middle of my back. Like most aches and pains at this age, I thought it would just go away. No dice. Finally, after ignoring it to the point of tears one day at work, (not embarrassing at all) I made an appointment with the doctor. Oddly enough she didn't find anything after that lengthy, exhaustingly thorough 5-minute investigation into my pain, so she prescribed a muscle relaxer and an anti-inflammatory and I was on the road to healing.

After all of those lovely pills were gone, I went back to the doctor...to tell her they didn't do their intended job. In spite of all of those nights I fell asleep during dinner, (I'm a bit of a light weight when it comes to medication) my pain was still there and it was worse.

After ANOTHER co-pay, she took some x-rays, told me my spine looked great, renewed my prescription and referred me to a physical therapist.

Enter the tape. Two days ago I finally got to the appointment. The man I met there renewed my faith in the possibility that my pain may eventually go away. In his charming English accent, he asked questions, he evaluated and he found my pain. My initial appointment was 2 hours. I left with that tape on my back. It restricted my movement and taught me how to function during the day without exacerbating my problem.

I am finally on the right road to healing. X marks the spot.

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