The Blue Raccoon

Wednesday, July 09, 2008

What I've Learned
You just never can tell

1) That after your Partner In Art has fallen and twisted her ankle you need frozen peas in the house.

2) After your Partner In Art has fallen, twisted her ankle and the bag of ice you made is melting, and there are no frozen peas in the house, and the cold wrap for migraines isn't really working, know where the Ace bandage is.

3) After your Partner In Art has fallen, twisted her ankle and you have no frozen peas in the house and cannot locate the Ace bandage, and though you think she's situated on the bed with leg raised and she's fine with here juice and seltzer, do not retreat to the writing den with your cell phone turned down, ceiling fan on, WRIR's A Party of One blaring.

4) Your Partner In Art, who has a hurt ankle, is not a specter come to get you when she appears in your doorway, and there's no reason to give a startled shout. She's not been able to reach you, because your cell phone is turned down, the ceiling fan is going, and WRIR is blaring Party of One. And she, injured, had to go down and get the Ace bandage which you couldn't find, in lieu of frozen peas, which are not in the house.

5) You cannot plug the cell phone into the Clapper light switch and expect it to be powered up. She told you that, and you didn't believe her.

6) The kids on their grand third floor balcony in the apartment building on the corner are doing what you 'd do if you were 20-something and with limited responsibility and maybe I should've gone over there and asked if they had any frozen peas.
That way, they would've shut up around 2 a.m. after you've been up trying to be a good nurse--and failing--and writing about events of 100 years ago holed up in your man room, with your cell phone turnd down, the ceiling fan running, and WRIR's Party of One blaring.

7) You cannot get up at 5 a.m. to resume writing if, having come to bed at 2 a.m. with watery eyes, and having strange dreams about John McCain picking Mitt Romney as his running mate. I don't know why I had this dream. I really could care less. I figured I'd be dreaming about frozen peas.

8) By the way, Viva Mexico, in Carytown where I got us dinner after The Partner In Art took her tumble, has generous portions and good, quick food. Take away for two, a taco salad and a chicken burrito, with rice and stuff. $18.

9) Don't put off setting up the coffee the night before. This gives you less stress on a morning when you feel like a your magneto isn't firing to get your prop turning. Then how strange it is when you turn on the comp box, to ostensibly do the AM weather check, and flip over to MSNBC, and there's Mitt Romney. Weird.

10) Hey! There's like an 8:28 Fairmount bus that shoots down Robinson so I won't be so late to work. And you find yourself bobbing your head to the Party of One show's theme song because you were in your man room writing about events of a century ago, with the radio blaring, the ceiling fan whirring, and your cell phone durned down, while your ankle-twisted Partner In Art was searching for the Ace bandage, in lieu of the frozen peas that weren't available.

Buy frozen peas at lunch.

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At 7:10 AM, Blogger ..................... said...

i got tons of frozen crowder peas ..
do you think those would work?

At 2:36 PM, Blogger HEK said...

I think the immediate need has passed.But thanks!


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