Pain, misery, agony on end – Page 9

Looking It Up

7/2017

In the good old days, it seemed so much simpler.

If you had a question, and nobody close by of whom you could ask and who had an answer (whether it was right or wrong didn’t matter) you looked it up. I wish I had a nickel for every time I was told to go look it up myself.

Looking it up seemed soooo easy. You’d go to the bookshelf and pull down the appropriate volume of the appropriate tome and, voila, there is the answer. In black and white. How could anyone dispute that? If you weren’t close to a library/acceptable tome you’d just wing it by doing without, doing something that works as well as being right or doing it wrong and learning from your mistake.

Today, you have to go to the computer, pull up a browser, go to Google or some such search engine. Then, if you get an answer, you get a million plus answers in 2.4 seconds and they all contradict each other and you have to spend hours reading and trying to decide which answer you want to accept.

Or you don’t get an answer and you get suggestions on how to properly spell what it is you are searching for, often involving suggestions that have no conceivable relationship with the original search or you get suggestions to look up such-and-such that is about as close to your need as Bangladesh is to San Diego.

How did we function in the good old days?

Reminiscing about the good old days from your grumpy Uncle/Brother Dave.

Weary.

Global Warming Gardening

4/2017

I worked out in the shop and in the garden, briefly, on Friday. It was about 73′ F. I got over heated and nauseated. Monday morning (April, the friggin 17th of APRIL!), I got off work and there were snow and ice on the windshield of the truck. The highway west was closed over the bridge for a couple of hours ’cause of the wrecks. It was a sheet of ice.

I think it’s supposed to be 67’F today.

Happy global warming gardening! Your grumpy Uncle/Brother Dave.

Weary.

Voodoo Dolls

7/2017

There are those days. I’m sure you’ve all heard the reference. Busy as hell, chaos, nothing goes right or it must be a full moon.

Well, I’ve come up with an alternate theory.

Somewhere, on the other side of the world, there is a pagan culture that does nothing but stick needles into dolls that look just like us.

It’s been one of those days for the last 2 weekends.

News from the heartland from your grumpy Uncle/Brother Dave.

Weary

Sorry

7/2017

Well, it was bound to happen. You’ll hear about it anyway so I might as well tell my side now.

I got fired and arrested yesterday. Security was waiting for me when I got to work. They searched my truck and found some drugs that I have been pilfering for some time. Quite a bit of drugs actually. It was a non-violent offense, so my wife was able to make bail.

So, if you please, don’t talk to the press. I guess you’ll have to talk to the FBI when they call so I won’t tell you what to say, just remember I’m still family.

They came to the house and confiscated all the guns and some other stuff. I don’t know if my brother will be able to get them back or not. I hope so, for you all ’cause I’ll not be able to have any guns any more anyway.

Don’t call, ’cause I’m sure the phone lines are tapped. E-mail should be OK, though.

Love, your now very grumpy Uncle/Brother Dave.

April 2, 2015 12:01 AM
Subject: Sorry, Part 2

So you thought your Uncle/Brother/Dad might just be involved in a surreptitious drug industry? Tisk, tisk.

And, If I was that I’d be caught? Tisk, tisk.

Before skedaddling to parts unknown? Tisk, tisk.

From your Grumpy Uncle/Brother Dave, just welcoming in the month of April.

Weary.

PS April 1, 2015 2:36 PM, I sent Sorry. It seemed to have caught a couple of family members unaware.

Thumb Surgery

7/2017

OK, OK. I survived the surgery. The other day I was pruning the apple trees and accidentally bumped my thumb against the pruning saw blade. Dang, but that thing is sharp. Cut right through the extensor pollicis longus tendon of my left thumb.

The doc commented that he was going to connect a few scars instead of making new ones. OK by me, since I’d potentially make more money hitchhiking (meaning a good repair of the tendon leaving a thumb that worked) than as a hand model on Sacs 5th ave (meaning less scar).

So we talked a few minutes about the numerous scars and a few other things as he was cutting my thumb open

Then he was quiet a few minutes and looked up, “You have been hard on your hands. I’m cutting more scar tissue in here than normal tissue.”

The tendon was completely severed. Tendons are elastic and shrink when not attached to something. He found the end about 3/8th of an inch up which was about 1 inch closer than he expected. The reason was that it had scarred to other tissue and was tethered from an old previous injury.

“Yeah and that’s my non-dominant hand Doc. You should see the other one.” I said.

Sincerely, your grumpy Uncle/Brother Dave, sending this via e-mail because I choose to not face, twit, linke-D, google or participate in any of the other social diseases.

Weary.