This evening after work I went to a CASA in-service thing. Kind of like continuing education or whatever. They pick a speaker and a topic; tonight was sensory integration and dysfunction thereof. Not really important, I guess, but it was interesting. Anyhow, they fed us dinner, it’s casual, held in this little room in the facility where they do various therapies for little really kids, birth to three years. So they have several chairs set up around the perimeter of the room, but apparently there aren’t enough big people chairs in the place, so there are also several “cubby chairs”, these plastic blocks that you can sit on and put your shoes or whatever in the little cubby on the bottom. I was lucky enough to get a real chair, but they quickly became scarce. Of course all us younger people try to give our seats to the older or less spry CASAs, but not one accepts. So I’m sitting next to this teeny tiny little old man, cute as shit, right? Totally grandfatherly, horseshoe-bald and silver haired, glasses, snowy beard but so…wee. He wouldn’t be Santa Claus, he’d be like the smiley head elf, and his wife (she’s a CASA, too) would be like the chief cookie baker. Oh yeah, there were cookies, too. Balla. So we’re munching our sandwiches and he goes for his bag of chips. I’m like, awesome, I won’t be the only one crunching while the speaker’s speaking. I try not to look over, but after a while he’s still crinkling and not yet crunching, so I glance. He’s whipped out a pocket knife and is ever so neatly slicing along the top seam of the bag. I don’t know why, but that just tickled me to no end. Really, it’s another glimpse of how getting old must suck, not having the finger strength to pry into a bag of Lay’s. And yes, it’s just a pocket knife, but it was still completely out of perceived character to me. Like Santa’s elves brandishing switchblades. Awesome.
Some recent Plinky prompts:
I got my itinerary for Germany yesterday. There was talk of a night or two in London on our way but that got nixed. Boo. Still, the flight numbers alone are enough to prompt a page’s worth of exclamation points – but I won’t do that to you. I’m a little bummed that the dates mean I’ll miss my CASA kid’s final disposition hearing, though I’m incredibly grateful to the director of the program for being willing to sit in on it for me. Also bummed that I’ll probably be released from the case once this hearing is over. I’d hoped to stay with the kid until completion of a treatment program, but the fact that treatment is being provided must be enough. Just going to be odd to have that name that I’ll always google, and I admit I’ll be devastated if I ever find the name in a news story. Unless of course it’s a local-person-does-good kind of thing, which I honestly think is equally as likely. Weird to be so proud of a person you don’t really know-know, other than the horrible things they’ve lived.
Having less soreness each day, which seems right. As long as things aren’t getting worse, I’m satisfied. Though I am still finding new bruises here and there. Right hip must have gotten rather up close and personal with the seat belt buckle, and the one on my knee is spreading in a lovely purplish fashion. Hadn’t noticed that one on my hip until just now! If only bruises were the new tattoos. But my foot’s not swelling or hurting any more than the previous days, so I’m still feeling extremely lucky to have escaped with no more serious injuries.
Blogger’s handy-dandy Dashboard informs me this will be my 500th post. It doesn’t say anything about substance, which there probably isn’t 500 characters’ worth of at this url, but it seems as though I should somehow commemorate it. I’ve kind of got nothing. I googled “five hundred” just for the hell of it and was not very inspired, either. Lame, I know. Some card/dice/outdoor games, some auto and auto racing references, meh.
“I don’t think my writing would have come as far as it has, or that I would have been as candid,” she said. “But you’re never truly anonymous … these are real human interactions, as virtual as they appear.”
Overall not too shabby. Pain didn’t keep me awake thanks to Advil PM, but every time I’d move I’d feel the soreness setting in. I’ve been up and moving around, albeit slowly. I bet this is a tiny taste of what it’s like being old and not so able bodied. Sucks. My foot and knee aren’t looking too much worse yet; I ventured out to get some arnica for the bruising and some Rescue Remedy to hopefully help unclench my jaw at Moxie‘s suggestion. I suppose my nerves are rather jangled. The seat belt burn on my collarbone is a bit angrier today, as is the general achiness through my neck and shoulders. But hopefully if I’m not really any worse off at 24 hours then I’m headed in the right direction.
- Insurance, with allowance for a rental car. Hello, speedometer maxing out at a completely unnecessary 180 mph.
- The kindness of strangers.
- Ibuprofen, heating pads, hot showers.
- Extra pillows.
- Friends calling and emailing and commenting and whatnot, checking in on me.