Saturday, June 25, 2011


The youngest spawnling asked for walkie-talkies for his birthday. And he got them. Fourfold. Of course, this necessitated the big kids (aka the parents) to play with them test them out. And then it struck me. We've been struggling with a couple minor issues stemming from my disability. One being our intent to convey to the spawnlings that it is rude to shout to a person from the other end of the house rather than walking to them and speaking in a normal tone of voice. Of course, I shout across the house to them ALL. THE. TIME. If I got up every time I needed to talk to them, I'd be permanently crippled, and then I'd be right back to shouting across the house to them anyway. I'm pretty sure our neighbors think I'm an obnoxious loudmouth who always screams at the kids. (Hey, pipe down there in the peanut galley. It's not that funny.)

Anyway. In testing them, we figured out that their range extends over every part of our property and a good ways up the street as well. WIN! We're going to go through an ungodly number of batteries this summer, but I now have a way to reach the kids without making myself hoarse and they have a chance to break the bad habit that their parent has modeled so diligently for them over the past three and a half years.

It's the little solutions that make such a big difference in the quality of a day.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

stepping outside the painted lines

Cheating circa 1990: Having two ice cream sundaes after dinner.

Cheating circa 2011: Taking the wrist splint off a week early.

Rocking it on the wild side, baby!

(Yes, you may laugh at me too.)

Thursday, June 2, 2011

you're fired

Dear saleslady,

You rocked it today, giving me a hand with road-testing the wheelchair and making pleasant conversation -- right up until you asked me what was wrong with me. It's so nice to know that a friend of yours had fibromyalgia and that she cured herself through sheer willpower because, you know, she's a "feisty lady." Gee, if I'd only known that the Power of Positive Thinking[tm] is all it takes to cure this beast invading my brain, spinal cord, fascia, nerves, muscles, and organs, well hell, I'd have been dancing in the streets years ago!

I could give you my moment of sheer rage. I could give you my feeling of inferiority for not being able to just will myself to health by being THAT KEWL. I could give you my resentment of your uninformed snap judgments and smug confidence based on genetic luck of the draw. But you'd have to try a lot harder to earn those. Sorry lady, your opinion just isn't worth that much.

You get this and that's it. These five minutes of posting time. Oh, and a big pair of hairy donkey balls. Go suck on 'em.

Chronic Pain Wizard