Yesterday, when Diane took Jennifer and Cedric to the emergency room, in Longview, I went to our rented storage facility to check up on our Winnebago. The main thing was to see if it would start. I feared that the battery may have run down since it’s been over a month since we closed that door. If it wouldn’t start, I’d have to drag it out in order to get to the battery because there’s only, like, 3 inches of space on the battery side.
Thankfully, it cranked right up, and I let it run for a little while. When the fumes started making my fingers go numb, I thought it would be a good idea to back it out so the exhaust went somewhere else. That went well. Getting it back in proved to be trickier, however, because I thought it would be a good idea to get more space on the passenger side. This meant, of course, that I needed to squeeze another inch, or two, off the driver’s side. There was contact, but I will deny it to my dying day. No major damage and I think my liability coverage will take care of it. Maybe.
So, “why,” you may ask, “did Cedric and Jennifer have to go to the emergency room, and why did Diane have to drive them?”
I’ll say, “because Jennifer couldn’t get Cedric’s bagel wound to stop bleeding, and had to keep pressure on it all the way to the hospital.” Driving wasn’t an option for her.
The visit was a success. Cedric was using a serrated knife to cut his bagel and sliced into his left thumb and into the palm of his hand. The doc used glue instead of stitches because the wound was so jagged. Then he put those little strips of tape across them like Diane uses on me all the time. The ones that are skinny on the ends, and skinnier in the middle. There’s a name for them, but it escapes me. They look like little versions of the nose strips I use to keep my nose open when I sleep. If I don’t use those, my nose slams shut. Diane wakes up and jabs me whenever she hears that sound.
So, Cedric is OK, and has something to talk about at school, which is important for a growing boy. It’s going to be an awesome scar, and I’m envious. I believe, however, that I still have a few scars in my future. There’s actually no doubt about it. I’m always finding little nicks and dings with bits of blood and don’t have a clue how it happened. So, if I’m actually paying attention when I receive a wound, it’ll probably be a good one. You’ll be the first to know, after Diane, when that happens.
I’ve decided to be a good boy when I eat. That shift was motivated by events of two days ago. Maybe it was three. Anyway, I was really on edge, not feeling well. I blamed it on the 9 pounds of Chinese food I ate at lunch, but Diane thought it was more basic than that. Bowing to her better judgement, as I always do, I made a decision to “eat right.” I was toying with the concept of not eating anything white – white flour, sugar, rice, potatoes, etc… A friend of our is doing that and he’s lost, like 180 pounds in the last couple of months! I’m guessing, here, and could be off by as much as 100 pounds or so. Still, that’s a lot of weight. He looks really great, too, because it’s not a rapid loss. He’s only losing about 4-8 pounds a day. I think the way he’s losing that weight is from spitting. You know, from spitting out all that good food, for the taste, just before eating all that non-white stuff. If I did that diet I’d just make everything brown by putting gravy on it. Simple. That, or teriyaki sauce.
Instead, I’m going to test my resistance and will power by just eating less of everything and fill up on water when my spirits start to wilt. Get it? Water? Wilt? Kinda sounds like I’m some sort of delicate flower. Not true. That’s Diane, not me. I’m like a cactus. The only time I used to drink water was when it rained in Arizona. Now I have to drink it whenever it rains in Oregon.
Last Saturday I attended a motivational seminar conducted by an old friend. As a result, I’ve decided to make a concerted effort to see if there’s a story in my head worthy enough for someone to pay for it. My first step will be to find a local writer’s group. If there isn’t one, I’ll just have meetings with myself, sitting here at my computer, talking to all of you. I’ve already looked for, and found one in St. Helens. But, it’s not in Oregon. It’s in England. That commute is a bit long for a weekly trip. Guess I’ll keep looking.
We hope everyone is doing well, wherever you may be.