every walk is a sort of crusade
Chickens. Cows. Earless goats. 900 lb pumpkins. Overalls. Rooster crowing contests. Jug bands. Timber Tina and her female “lumberjill” axe-throwers. Duck-hearding. Donutburgers. Exposed midriffs. Dog-sized rabbits. Quilts. Pies. Cloggers. Toothlessness. Pipe smoking contests. Poultry named Tyrone.
You can find it all at the Kentucky State Fair (a picture’s worth a thousand words.)
I am freeeeeee!
Yesterday the surgeon told me I don’t have to wear my brace anymore. AND I can swim. Or at least try. My arm is still stuck at a 90 degree angle when I relax it, so I look kind of weird, like I’m mid-robot all the time. But whatever, I don’t mind. Because now I can go for my walks without having to deal with the incredulous, grossed-out looks from passers-by when I dump a puddle of sweat out of my brace in the middle of the arboretum.
Onward and upward!
The 100th post. Ha.
I actually pass this post every morning on my walk around the arboretum…which brings this blog back to its roots. Go for a walk today.
OOoOOooooooeeeeee…get out your ‘shine, beater, and earplugs. It’s official.
And if you don’t understand the significance of this gentleman’s back art, you’d better learn quick before you come visit.
So I know I’ve been a little slow posting things…my online class (Financial Statement Analysis…gripping), the first and (god willing) only online class I will ever have to take (no offense Joe), has taken over my life and will continue to do so for the next few weeks. As much as every fiber in my body fights it every waking moment, I need to finish this class by mid-Sept to get my certificate. And what better time to do it than when you’re an unemployed invalid living with your in-laws.
Party. On.
i heart my surgeon.
My surgeon decided to go “out on a limb” and, after making me promise I would be VERY very careful, put me in a splint early 2 weeks early, instead of another full arm hard cast. (An old coworker was like, “Obviously he doesn’t know how accident prone you are.” I’m hoping I can hold myself together for 2 weeks.) The splint is removable, so in addition to starting some (very slow) elbow and wrist exercises, I can wash my arm. I cannot begin to tell you how excited this makes me.
So thank you to all of you who voted, but (fortunately) I will not be sporting a Traffic Cone Orange cast any time soon (Electric Green and Fluorescent Pink were tied for second…dark blue got one vote. My (apparently only responsible) friend told me that she thought it would look the most professional when I went on job interviews.)
So the neighbors (who are about our age, super fun, and have 3 kids…obviously) invited us over for dinner the other night (because that’s what good neighbors do) along with another couple with whom they were old friends (who were also our age, super fun, easygoing, and do NOT have any kids…miracle…I think that’s why they introduced us). So we all had a great time at the end of the night we were exchanging numbers and I asked the woman what her last name was, and she was like, “Hatfield.” Yes, for real. Her husband is a Hatfield, as in THE Hatfields of the Hatfields and McCoys. I kind of freaked out, considering just last week I added the Hatfield-McCoy Driving Tour to my list of Things To Do. He grew up in Pikeville, right on the West Virginia border, and was telling me about all the family heirlooms they had in the house that had to do with the feud (mostly guns).
Yes.
All I really know (or thought I knew) about the Amish is that they live in Lancaster, Pennsylvania and shun modern conveniences like electricity. So imagine my shock when on one rainy day we came across this blinking, tricked out Amish buggy holding up traffic in the middle of West Virgina.
Awesome.
Get stuck behind this guy every morning.
I attended the wedding of a family friend this weekend with Paul’s family (where we were seated at the German table, because the family of the bride thought it was hilarious….and super fun for the 2 of us sitting there that didn’t speak German…to sit all the foreigners’ families together). Somewhere in between the German conversations, Makers Mark, and moving rendition of Hillbilly Deluxe by the groom and his friends, we realized the array of dance moves you can pull off with one arm stuck at a 90 degree angle is kind of amazing. Here are a few.
The Twist:
Stop In The Name of Love:
The crowd favorite, The Sprinkler (a modified version):
The Robot:
The Ahnold:
And the Hillbilly Jig (poor shot but believe me, you can do it):
The Lawnmower and Truck Driver also work, but didn’t get caught on film. And I’m throwing this picture in here just because the two guys in the background were in such fine form:
A+. Kentucky weddings rule.
Rambulatory Ambulatory 