Friday, October 15, 2010

Talk about a pain in the neck . . .

OUCH!  We're a bunch of a muscle-aching ones in this house.  First it's Gary's back and hips, then it's India's back and hips and neck and then it's my neck.  Gary blames his injury on lifting too much weight during football in college.  India blames hers on a sledding accident a few years ago.  I blame mine on three rowdie boys.  :)    I can do that, can't I??
For India -well - have you ever seen the ski jumpers fly off the ramps in the Olympics?  Well, picture that only with a 14 year old girl, on a sled, in the woods of Idaho, and no judges.  Air born and a butt to back landing.  We gave it a 9.  But seriously, it was bad.  And since then, she's had constant back pain.  She's been a trouper, but for some reason, lately, it's been worse.  Maybe teaching 15 dance classes might have something to do with it???  She went to a new chiropractor who twisted her into a pretzel and snapped her back like a twig.
How does it feel, we ask?  Different, says she.  Yeah, but, like, better or worse, we ask?  Different, she repeats.  Is it different good or different bad, we prod?  Well, if it's different, it's good, but it's just - well - different, she so thoroughly explains.
Ok then.    Scary thing is, we ask Gary the same questions after his bone-cracking visits and we get the exact same answers.  It's a conspiracy.

Tomorrow is opening day of pheasant season.  Dig out your orange beanies and be prepared to duck!  What a fashion statement that is.  We are right next to the pheasant capital of the world, you know.  The entire state will be bombarded with four-wheel drive pick ups, filled with visitors donning their brand new army issued camouflage jackets, pants and, yes even boots, and hordes of shotguns in the windows.
Um, looks like it's a good day to go visit the relatives  . . .

We're waking up to 33 degrees daily.  The cold is coming, my friend and I for one, am NOT looking forward to it.  I'm checking out flights to California or Costa Rica - return date of, oh, say - May.  Ok.  Not really, but
it's hard to think of those Golden Staters driving around in their convertibles with sandals and sun glasses.  Don't be shocked if say, around, December or January and I'm blogging pool side under a palm tree sipping a cool drink out of a coconut with a little umbrella from some exotic location.  I've threatened this for years, but my mid life crisis is kicking in and so I'm just warning you.  I really think the frequent flier mileage is itching to be used, don't you?

Have a great weekend, and don't forget to wear your neon orange!  

jill and all

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