Threw My Back Out

Ow. Ow. Ow. And again... ow.

I've done something horrible to my back. I spent 10 minutes this morning curled up on the floor of our exercise room, unable to stand and trying to formulate a plan on how to lure the cats to bring the phone to me so I could call an ambulance. My attempts at psychic communication with my felines were either a dire failure or--more likely--they were just ignoring me.

Not sure what happened. I went to power yoga this morning, as I do every Friday morning. Fine, no problems there. Then I came home and pulled out my exercise ball to do some crunches and weight lifting exercises. I did a few squats, stretched out my arms, then I draped myself over the ball. As my back uncurled I was literally thinking, "Ahh..this feels sooo good..." when BAM! Something in my lower back snapped hard and fast enough that I actually screamed.

Too bad someone with a camera wasn't around b/c I probably could win a grand prize on one of those funniest home video shows as I tried to slide off the ball and onto the floor. Only I couldn't slide off or make any movement without excruciating pain from my lower spine. I finally managed to sort of heave the ball out from under me and I dropped to all fours. The plan was to drop to the floor, but I literally couldn't get down there. The only acceptable position was on all fours with my back arched.

Eventually I deep-breathed enough to get myself to the floor. Bad move. Now I was stuck. Couldn't roll over or sit up. More deep breathing. Finally stood up - ow, ow, ow! Back to the floor. And up. And back to the floor.

During this whole time the exercise tape I'd put in was running, so as I'm trying to uncurl from the fetal position, some toned man named "Gunner" is yelling at me from the VCR to "suck in those abs like somebody hot is coming! C'mon people, let's DO IT!" It struck me as funny that 10 minutes before I was very concerned about my abs. Now I was just hoping to be able to shower at some point without help.

It's been almost two hours and I'm up and about. Still stiff, and I notice I'm holding my back very stiff and straight, trying not to do any bending. On the bright side, I see this as a free ticket not to exercise for the next few days. On the darker side, I hope it clears up because we're heading out on vacation next week.

Stay tuned...

Attack of the Killer Brown Spider

Ten minutes ago...sitting at my desk, laptop in front of me as I transcribe an interview from last week. I'm staring at the screen--not looking down, up, left, or right, but staring straight at the screen, watching the words as they appear, when out of freaking nowhere this brown spider is suddenly on my screen.

Naturally, I hit the ceiling. It's my innate reaction to any unexpected bug, be it bee, ant, spider, or gnat.

The question in my mind was, Where the hell did this thing come from?" It's not like I watched it crawl across the screen. It was just BOOM!, there. Obviously, it is some mutant spider with superpowers, sent here to torture me by the ghost of the Daddy Longlegs I knocked off last week in our bathroom.

The spider is small, only about 1 inch long, and is sitting in the middle of my screen, reading about Norwegian Elkhounds. I look around. Never a hard soled shoe in sight when you need one. I race downstairs for a paper towel (its body looked thick and gushy so no way was I willing to use a tissue or toilet paper)and run back up, sure the spider will have hidden itself.

But no, it's still there. Maybe my article on Elkhounds is really good.

I don't want to squash it on my screen so I flutter the paper towel at it. The spider races (fast!) down the screen and holes up in one of the little side port holes where stuff plugs into my computer.

I inwardly moan. No way I'm sticking a finger in there to chase him out. Instead, I pick up the laptop and shake it like an Etch-A-Sketch. The spider drops to the desk, crouched, wary. I reach for it with the paper towel and it takes off.

BAM! I just miss it as it runs past the calculator. WHAM! I send pencils flying but see the spider, alive and well, racing for the desk corner. Noooooo! If it reaches the carpet I'll never get it.

The spider makes a crucial error and stops running and tries to hide. Under a log home magazine. Ha ha! I slam my fist on top of the magazine, then slowly peel it back to look.

He's mangled, but not squished enough to suit me. The last thing I need is a ticked off limping spider coming after me. So I pick up the magazine and slam it down again.

And send the spider's body flying God knows where.

That's right. I can't find it. There are only so many places it could be. I've searched the desk, floor, printer, and my hair. Nothing. So now, even though I KNOW I killed him, I keep feeling something crawling on my skin and I'm jerking and starting every few seconds, brushing imaginary spiders off me.

I just hope I killed the spider before it got a good look at me. I shudder to think about what it may send after me for its revenge.

Award Ceremony

I won a third place award in a local writer's group for a humor essay I wrote called Terror In The Designer Racks. I went to the awards dinner last night, a big snooze. The only interesting part of the 3-hour evening was when they called my name and everyone applauded. And that part never lasts long enough.

Big advances happening on the cat book, "Lessons In Stalking...Adjusting to Life With Cats." I'm looking at an August release date. I have an illustrator, cover designer, and by the end of this week will have selected a printer. The stories are written, the illustrations will be completed next week, and I'm just waiting for some final blurb testimonials to come in.

I showed the illustrations for the book to my cats and told them they were going to be stars. They appeared unimpressed.

Going to spend the day writing an article about the Norwegian Elkhound which, just so you appear knowledgeable should the topic come up, is neither a hound nor does it hunt elk. "Elg" means "Moose" in Norway, and "Hund" means "Dog." So it's really a moose hunting dog.

I've got to get some new assignments.

More About the Kittens

Did I mention I went back to my vet's to check on the mommy Calico cat and I got to hold all 4 of her kittens? (I said earlier there were 6-8, but in reality there were only four. Her tummy was so big they kept thinking more were coming). The Calico is doing fine and is "an excellent mother." She's also a people person. She purrs and purrs anytime anyone even walks past her.

I held the kittens when they were only 3 days old. Cute doesn't even begin to cut it. There isn't a word for holding something that small and fragile and cute and furry. Delicious, is what comes to mind. And don't think, as I was holding all four in two palms cuddled against my chest, that I didn't think of bolting for the door and carrying them all home.

The vet was unusually quiet the day I went in and for a short while I was the only person in the lobby with the kittens. But a few other people came in and it was humorous to see everyone's reaction because man or woman, young or old, every reaction was the same. The person would stop dead in their tracks, their eyes would widen, their mouth drop open, and a long, soft,"Ohhhhhhh" would come out.

I'm sure there is one teenage girl's mother out there cursing my name. The girl came in to pick up some food for their dog and lost her mind when she saw how cute the kittens were. She held an orange and white one and kept nodding hard in agreement as I told her over and over again how good they looked together and that kitten was meant for her. Chances are she hasn't stopped talking about it and I'm hoping I've at least found that kitten a home.

BTW, none of the kittens were calico. One was black and white, one gray and white, and two orange and white.

My allergies prohibit another cat. As it is, people keep asking me if I have a cold and I keep telling them no, I just sound like this until October.

I'm writing an article for our local paper about the kittens. Everyone keep their fingers crossed that they all find good homes (especially the mommy cat).