Bon Mots and Cheap Shots,  Cycling

One day you’re a diamond and then you’re a stone

The last two weeks have been ridiculous.  The Brother got himself some nasty ass shit that kicked his ass pretty badly.  People die from what he had…but he beat it.  But he was super super sick.  I’m used to his never ending stream of respiratory bullshit but this took things to a whole new level.

One of my good friends found out her husband, a guy in his 40’s has a mass on his bladder.  Another lost a member of her inner circle to cancer of the freaking everything.  I think she didn’t have it in her stomach and that was it.   I saw this woman two months ago and she was in remission and doing just fine.  Then it roared back.  She went into the hospital on Tuesday, hospice on Friday and was gone the following Monday.  Whiskey.  Tango.  Foxtrot.  There are seriously three or four other people in my life who are dealing with similar serious serious shit right now.  Whiskey.  Tango.  Foxtrot.

Another situation has resolved itself.  My friends in San Marcos returned to their home yesterday.  I really didn’t think I would be writing that sentence two days ago.  This is their home at 30 seconds in, with the fire tornado in the background and the fire truck in her driveway. The audio is about a different house in a different neighborhood. The fire fighters are walking around in her backyard in some of the other video.

And on a much more minor note, I strained the holy hell out of my hamstring two weeks ago and it still hasn’t resolved.  I was going to put some gas in the truck and then go see Cousin Jeanne at the Clayton Art and Wine Festival.  I loaded Bill up in the truck and headed down to the gas station.  Well, the truck had other ideas and took a powder at the pump.  The battery was dead.  It was 10am two Sundays ago.  I called AAA to all that bitch back home and I think they ordered a tow from Reno.  It took over an hour to get there.  Funny, they never sent me a “How did we do” survey on that tow.  The driver was great, AAA dropped the ball.


Well, the gas station guy wants me to push the truck away from the pumps even though it’s Sunday morning the business is light.  Like an asshole I agree.  I should have told him I buy hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of gas from him and deal with it or I’ll go to the guy next door who has the same prices.  Hindsight.  We push the truck away from the pump.  I have to door open so I can reach in and steer it.  Then comes time to hop up in the truck and brake because we are now in the driveway which is sloped towards the street.  And the truck is rolling a little faster.

Did I mention I rode 90 miles the day before?  Over Mt. Diablo?  Yeah, that matters in this story.  I didn’t have any “hop” in my legs and missed.  I caught my right heel and got stuck.  And the truck kept rolling.  And I could feel the tearing in my hamstring.  First thought “drop out”.  Then I would be run over by my own pick up truck.  Even stupider than the situation I was in.  I pulled hard to see if I could pull myself up with my arms as the hamstring tore more.  Finally I took a hop with the leg that was down and shoved my shoulder into the truck and stopped it.  Did I mention Bill was sitting up in the truck the whole time?  I’m still badly hurt two weeks later in spite of some really great ART work but my truck isn’t wrecked and my dog did not go rolling or running out into traffic and get killed so I’m calling it a win.

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