Working Like a Dog

I like this phrase, but frankly, our dogs and horses don't do a lick of work. They lay around all day, privates exposed and tongue hanging out. I, on the other hand, am expecting my bones to disintegrate into a pile of dust any moment. Combined with carrying Wm around and working in the heat to finish a chicken tractor, trying to get the garden in order and of course, that doesn't include all the housework and cooking, I'm plumb "wore-out".

I was fool enough to bowl on Saturday night at a birthday party for my mom's first cousin's husband. Bowling is a sport that should be outlawed for old folks like me that don't go often. I have developed the flexibility for horse back riding, but evidently, bowling uses some muscles in my left hip that I don't use on a regular basis. I look like a version of the Hunchback of Notre Dame walking around. To top it all off, Wm gets his cast tomorrow which should add another 10 pounds to his weight.

You know what's worse than having a broken leg? Having a four-year old with a broken leg. For the first few hours when I brought him home, he played the typical male I'm-sick-can-you-bring-me-drink-and-change-the-channel-and-cover-me-with-a-blankie. By that afternoon, we caught him hopping up the stairs on one foot. We've been carting him around in the wagon when possible, but he's learning to get around in the house by scooting on his rear.

At the bowling party, Wm whined, "Why do THEY all get to bowl and I don't?" Um, you have a broken leg, dear. So we improvised. He sat on the lane, spread his legs, and we together pushed the ball down the lane. He got a strike. A few minutes later and three lanes down, I saw that one group had started a game of "sitting-down bowling", a new type of bowling Wm invented. It improved their scores.

Check back later today for progress on our barn demolition and photos of my chicken tractor.