As requested

I received a lovely, funny, concerned email from a friend....requesting a post.

So, I'm alive.  I worked from home last Tuesday - Friday, spending time resting, elevating, icing.

I saw two very cool Sports Medicine docs on Friday.  They both let me know what a good job I did on my ankle, and then sent me to x-ray just to be sure.
Again, not broken.
Looks like I'll be in the boot and using a crutch for the next few weeks.  I have some exercises I need to do to avoid physical therapy down the line.  I'm trying. They aren't easy.

The swelling is down (finally!), but the bruising is up and gross.  I'm moving around my house with either an ace bandage or nothing, carrying a crutch just in case.  The pain is still there, but in different spots, and the movement is restricted.

VonSis did my laundry and made a couple of awesome meals for me this weekend.  VonParents brought me some of my favorite snacks from Trader Joe's.  Peapod sent me a superhot delivery man and all of my groceries.

I'm going back to work tomorrow.  Work means definitely boot and one crutch.

So, I have nothing witty or awesome to say.  I'm sure my friends are developing a "what now" attitude about me.  I can't play guitar because of my hand still recovering.  I can't go too many places.  This is my fourth major health thing this year, and frankly I'm tired of it.  I'm tired of pretending it doesn't bother me.   I just keep knocking wood, and trying to right my karma, and praying for some calm healthy months.

Call me Bootsy

Where has your lovely hostess been THIS week?
Well, you should have been able to guess this one -
I.Got.Hurt.

Sunday I did a major ankle roll and fell big time, tearing up my right hand in the process.
Could not stand up. Just laid on the ground, face down, swearing and crying.
It took quite a while to get me up off the ground and into a chair.
Luckily VonSis and VonBroInLaw were there, so was VonMom (another story for another day, and NOT a good one), so I wasn't alone.
They got me up into a chair, and I was convinced my ankle was broken. My hand was bleeding like a sonofabitch.
VonSis took me to urgent care for some xrays.
Good news! Not  broken!
Bad news! Hand tore the fuck up to the point of needing tetanus shot!
Good news! Immobilizer boot and crutches!
Bad news! Can't stitch hand due to location of the gash!
Bad news! Good luck trying to use the crutches with your hand all tore up!!

Even worse? Living alone when you have an injury like this SUCKS. I'm pretty sure I'll be able to get groceries via Peapod, but no one has ponied up to do my laundry.  I may have to bribe someone.

Went to work Monday. Let me just say - people suck.  I had to take a train and a bus. And crutch a lot.  By the time I got to work I was in tears, and purple with the exertion of it.
Thankfully, my team is letting me work from home the rest of the week. I'm working, but I'm also taking time to elevate/ice. 

Sleeping? Not going well. Roll over, pain, wake up. Pretty much all night.

I have a follow up with a sports medicine doctor on Friday. Hoping for some good news. I have a lot coming up, and crutches and/or boot are NOT in my grand plan.

2011 and I are so totally NOT friends.

To clarify, for Brando

Ah, my dear Brando, I feel I must clarify.*

You see, I am a baseball fan - a fan of all teams, all players, and all parks BUT WRIGLEY.

When I go to a baseball game, I want to watch the game, I want to score the game, I want to enjoy the game.
At Wrigley Field, you can do none of these things.
"Scoring the game" to those asshats means having sex at the game.
For a very very very long time, I was a die-hard Cubs fan. I mean, opening day 8 years in a row fan.
Then, I started paying attention, and realizing how much I hated the people who go to Cubs games.
Not to mention the fact that the last half dozen games I attended in that frat house shit hole I was mocked, taunted, made to feel like abosolute crap. By complete strangers, as I just walked by them. More than once, every time.
I did not know that Wrigley Field had a weight limit.

I will never, not if my life depended on it, not if they were doing well step foot in that place again.
It's not a ball park - it's the city's largest outdoor bar/frat house.

Now, the Cell?
Clean, beautiful, exciting (have you seen the opening montage?!?!), and WELCOMING.
Oh, yeah, and the people there go to watch baseball.

So, yes, this North-sider has switched teams, and proudly.
I'm all in, and I'm never going back.

The Cubs? Meh - but Fuck Wrigley Field.

*And I certainly hope we can agree to disagree, and be friends.
Let's have beer soon, just not in Wrigleyville.

Take me out to the ball game....

The White Sox game, to be specific.

I don't step foot in Wrigley Field. Those people don't even know there's a baseball game going on. You couldn't pay me enough to go there.....guess it's another topic for another day.

And, we are pre-partying at the batting practice party thing.
There will be beer, oh yes, there will be beer.

And since this is Chicago....

I'm wearing:
A long sleeved shirt
A tee shirt
A Sox fleece
A hooded fleece lined jacket
Wool knee socks
Jeans

Chicago has skipped spring and summer and jumped right to fall.

Needless to say, I'll be off work and off line tomorrow, as I'm going with a bunch of bartenders who have warned me to not even bother trying to keep up.
I call this a challenge....

Brought to you by the letters T M and J

So sorry for my recent absence.
I had one hell of a week last week, and for me to say that, that's pretty bad.

My aunt passed away on Monday, the very same aunt that I had written a post about last winter, and then deleted - that one.
I have piles and piles of regret, to the point that said regret was like an ugly living thing, sitting on my shoulders.
It's still there, but I'm giving it some thought daily, and working through it.

Then, Tuesday afternoon (coincidence? I think not...)
I began having massive ear/jaw/teeth pain on the left side of my face.
Like someone was stabbing me in the ear/jaw/teeth every 20 minutes or so.
Not fun.
I ignored said pain until Thursday, when LB1 made me go to the doctor.
I was convinced that it was an ear infection, or some sort of sinus thing.
I called the nurses at my doctor's office.
"So, I have an ear infection."
"Uh huh."
"Can she just call some drugs in to the Walgreens?"
"Let me call you back"
10 minutes later
"No. *ha ha* You will need to come in."
"Really?"
"Really. But she said you are probably right."
"Damn it."
"And then she will give you drugs, ok?"

So I head over to the doctor. 
Ears, checked out awesome. Sinuses checked out not so bad.
"You have tmj!"*
"You're kidding!"
"Nope."
"Damn it!"
"And because you are you, you cannot have the good stuff prescription anti-inflammatory, so you will have to take some Advil. And Tylenol for the pain."
"Can I take four?"
"Or I can give you Vicodin."
As I was in the middle of one of the blindingly bad pain things, I said "Yes, yes, give me Vicodin."
"Pain scale?"
"Nine! GOD DAMN IT!"
And with that I was given Vicodin.  Which I have not taken in over 20 years.
Got in the car, immediately called the dentist.
"I have to ask...are you using your mouth guard?"
"Sigh. Yes. Every night."
"Do you have painkillers?"
"Nope, but I will in about 20 minutes."
"Good. Take them. USE them."
My dentist knows me so well.

So I picked up a gigantic bottle of Advil, and a not small bottle of Vicodin, and headed over to VonParents' house.
"Why are you so early?"
"Well....."
"Oh, for Pete's sake - you CANNOT be sick again, and you CANNOT be around your dad if you are!!!!!"
"mumble mumble tmj......."
"What!?!? What is that?"
My dad chimes in "Well, it's like lock jaw...."
"This one?!?! Lock jaw?!?! That's not possible."
I had not taken any drugs yet, so this was just awesome.

Anywho.
Spent my weekend following the dentist's instructions perfectly - Advil every four hours, gargle with warm salt water, heating pad, soft foods, etc.....oh, and Vicodin.
And I can say I'm about 90% better.  My ear and jaw are almost pain free, and my teeth and gums just hurt.  I will need to call the dentist to let him know, and maybe schedule a follow up.

BUT
Don't think for a second that I sat my little ass at home, NO, we aren't doing that any more this year!!
Friday night - volunteered Marcia Ball / Sanctified Grumblers show at the OT.
Saturday - did miss guitar class due to pain, BUT went to book club followed by margarita (virgin for me) dance party.
Sunday - BBQ with delightful God-child. Ok, her dad cooked on the grill, and we all sat in the house in sweaters and jeans.

And, how are you??

*I will say I was THRILLED to find out I was NOT sick again. I mean, c'mon!

Best thing ever

Friday night I went to Old Town to see my old guitar teacher play. I showed up a little drunk, because I also had some bad news to deliver to my friend Bob.
I found Bob sitting outside in the back courtyard.  I told him the news, he seemed ok, but not thrilled.
Bob went inside, I decided to stay outside for a minute and relax.
This is when Steve showed up.
Steve was my second and most favorite guitar teacher.  He's just the coolest guy I've met ever. He's also one fucking talented guitar player.
Steve refers to all people as either "musical humans" or "non-musical humans", and reminds us to feel bad for non-musical humans, as their lives are less rich than ours.
Steve is just this cool older hippie guy. Though I'm not sure he'd like it if I called him a hippie.  I just respect the hell out of him. And I'm kinda in awe of him.
Anyway.
So, Steve, Juan and I were chatting in the courtyard on Friday night. 
Steve asked about my classes, and I said that I was having some trouble in my current class. I told him I would not give up, that even though it was hard, I'd get through it and get better.
And then Steve said:
"You could never be a non-musical human. Not even for 15 minutes. It's just not possible."
Shortly thereafter, Steve headed one way, I headed inside to watch the show.
But I was all giddy.
For someone that barely knows me, he gets something about me that is a basic truth, and has been a basic truth of mine for as long as I can remember.

So, Saturday morning I was less anxious and more excited to go to guitar class. It was hard, and I got frustrated, I can admit that. 
But I'm a musical human. And I do what musical humans do.

I revel in my contradictions

Friday night, my friend K told me that the Big 4 is coming to Chicago.
If you don't know, it's Metallica, Anthrax, Megadeth, and Slayer
This may or may not be true (no date has been officially announced)
BuT
It got me to thinking.
One of the things I love, and have always loved, about going to metal shows is the hot men with the looooong hair.
Hot. Really hot.
I dig long hair. I always have, and likely, always will.

Then, I thought some more....
What kind of man turns my head on a regular basis?
Bald men.

Every day, I will nod and smile at hot bald men.
Hot. Really hot.

So, turns out I like:
Long haired men
Bald men

Could I be more inconsistent?

I looked back over my long and sordid romantic history.....
Turns out I have never dated either!
Sure, I've had some *special* times with some long-haired darlings,  but VonMom pretty much would have hated and possibly killed any long haired, leather jacketed dude I might have brought home for a meet and greet.
And the bald bandits of my heart?
Haven't even kissed one.

Looks like I found my plan for summer 2011.
Everyone needs a plan.

Review

I had one of those weekend that not only tired me out, but it bled my wallet dry.
Drier than dry.
I think I saw a piece of lint in there today, but I also heard an echo.
But I'm not complaining (much).

Friday night I volunteered a show at Old Town. I'm a little bummed to know that when I volunteer now, it's for nothing, really nothing, as I'll be losing my points (I have over 400 points) as soon as my new jobby job starts. I don't really mind, there are benefits to being staff beside getting paid, but it's still weird.  I thought maybe I should just not sign in, but then the volunteer coordinator will not know that I was there.....so anyway.
Right before the show began, I got a text from Eldest Stepsib that she and her fam were at my bar, down the block.
I snuck out, said hello to the fam, stole a piece of nephew's pizza, and hied back to the show.
It was a later night than I'd have liked, for a Friday, but that's ok.

Saturday morning brought the new stress of the new guitar class. Not only am I repeating 2rep (again, again, I know) but this time around I have a very scary teacher. Scary to me. Intimidating. Whatever. He's tough.  AND his teaching method is entirely different from any other I've had so far. Sigh.  He took away our music stands (my crutch) and did NOT give us the sheet with the words and the chords! He didn't even tell us what song it was. Just taught us some arpeggio business, then some bass line stuff, then "chunklets" of the song. For the life of me I could not figure out what the song was.  To my credit, I did know that it was a melancholy sound, and I was curious.  Only in the last 5 minutes of class did he start singing, and it was "Hallelujah" by Leonard Cohen.  I would have never guessed, and I have this song on my iPod!!!  His teaching style is going to be very tough to get used to.

Saturday night I went to dinner with John and Toni. We went to an amazing Peruvian restaurant near their house in the Wicker Park area.  It was warm enough and close enough to walk.  I love eating out with John and Toni because they love to eat, try new places, and have a great meal be the entire evening.  Sure, it was more $$ than I expected, but I was more than full, and the food was great, so it was worth it.  Plus, they are so great to hang out with.  They hate people as much as I do, so it's kinda perfect.

Sunday was breakfast with TheMarty at Tweet. I would call it brunch, except that at 9:00 am, that's breakfast.  There are very very very few people I'd set my alarm for on a Sunday, and TheMarty is one of them.  We had a lovely time. 

I also ran to my new favorite place on Sunday - Trader Joe's. What had I been missing!! It was only my second time there, and I'm obsessed. 

Much running around, not enough resting time, but these things happen.