A week behind, but I’m getting there 
Bones
I’ve been going to see the chiropractor for about a month or so. I’d been to one many, many years ago after a car accident and it seemed to help. I thought I’d give it a go again since I’m lopsided from walking with a limp for so long.
The twins who run the place are very gung ho on the proper placement of the Atlas bone. This is the top cervical bone in your neck – the one that your skull is supposed to rest serenely upon. Apparently, mine is out of whack because I am not even close to serenity at the moment.
They have a funky machine that looks as if it going to deliver a lethal stab into the base of your skull. What it does is gently adjust the degree of angle in the Atlas. No more, “take a breath, relax and try not to think that I’m about to snap the hell out of your neck” stuff. Nope, just a gentle, almost unfelt tap.
My Atlas has been reset oh, six times now. I’m guessing the little bugger is quite happy being crooked. It just won’t sit still and every time they adjust it, I end up with these excruciating bothersome muscle spasms between my shoulder blades. You know the kind where that’s pretty much all you can think about?
I was dancing with Yoda yesterday and with every move my back had it’s own little disco party. Today, I’ve been attempting to study for my Archaeology final, but the spasms in my back are making me wonder if I need my own forensics done.
Victim:
Female: approximately 50 years old
Height: feet touch the floor
Weight: filled out
Race: hasn’t run one in 30 years
Teeth: still her own, although they could use a whitening
Body shape: filled out
Musculature: apparently doesn’t eat spinach
Handedness: both there
Scars: emotional and physical present
Past bone injuries: two screws in right ankle; one slightly skewed Atlas
Findings:
There was a crooked woman and she walked a crooked mile,
She found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked stile.
She bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse.
And they all lived together in a little crooked house.
Until she underwent chiropractic manipulations and ended up in worse straits than before.
Anyone know a good masseuse?
Premiere Reminder Day
Sunday was Bashert’s birthday. Birthdays are a big thing for her, since many of the other popular holidays throughout the year were not celebrated by her family. Birthdays were fun, but not earth shattering events for my family. As I’ve noted before, I can be kind of dense about some things, so its taken me a few years to realize the importance of the day.
I have a hard time being super creative in a celebratory way. Most of that talent lies with Bashert. She once had me invite all the people and then decorate my parent’s home for my own surprise birthday party.
I’ve only been able to surprise her a couple of times during our 15 years.
When she turned 40, I gave her a gift a day forty days out from her birthday. Each gift was accompanied by a short poem to hint at what the gift was to be. I gave her all manner of stuffs – from a secret message painted on the ceiling (glow in the dark paint) to lip balm to a surprise visit from her sister (who came bearing chocolate cake!). That was challenging, but fun.
This year, she received her most of her birthday a little early. The first part was a little bit selfish on my part. She was so totally frustrated with her iPad I dropping her from the internet and I was so totally frustrated hearing the sighs, that I packed up Yoda and part of our tax return and went straight to the Apple store. We came home with a laptop. Surprise! No more sighs from either of us.
I had not planned anything specific for her actual birthday. We were to be out of town Friday and Saturday for Passover at her sister’s place. And then it happened. I was in the back room working on my term paper (which I should be doing now) Friday night and I could hear them discussing dogs.
I had internet connection and ding! went my email. Seems Bashert’s sister, Miriam had found a couple of dachshund puppies offered on Craigslist in our area. I snuck a look and said for those faces, I could try again. The next day started an email exchange that ended up with a meeting to take place on Sunday.
Once we saw the little thing, there was no doubt he would be coming home with us. If the other people who had driven all the way from North Carolina had decided against his sister, I believe we would have taken her too.
So, enter Moses, a nine week old, long haired, mini dachshund. He is a beautiful black and tan and full of personality. He won’t be much over 10 lbs once fully grown and he has stolen our hearts. Well, most of our hearts. The cats aren’t too happy with the new addition, yet.
The older ones haven’t gotten over adding in Ruthie the 3-legged kitten and Ruthie is a little put out about not being the baby anymore. The pain of the lost dogs still haunts us, but as with all blended families, it just takes time.
We’ll get there.
Happy Birthday, Bashert!
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