My body seems to really be appreciating this brief hockey hiatus. In the mean time, just in case you all were missing me and my babbling (admit it, you were), I figured I'd come share two things of mild interest. Neither is hockey related, but the first thing potentially could have been. I guess I just really can't stay away from hockey, because even though I said I was going to take another week off, when I got back from vacation I started thinking "hmmm... maybe I'll go to open hockey on Wednesday". And then I fell down the stairs.
Nothing's injured, but I have a bruise that as it grows is almost covering my entire butt cheek. Sunday morning, I woke up and wanted a glass of water, so I got out of bed. Our stairs are carpeted, but the steps themselves are kind of short, so both GoalieHusband and I have slipped on occasion. We've always caught ourselves though. Not this time. My right foot went out from under me and although I grabbed for the railing and, missing that, put my arms and feet out to try to break my fall, I bounced down several steps on my left butt cheek. Really, really hard. I landed in a pile at the bottom of the stairs, and almost passed out. I could tell nothing was broken, given how I landed, but holy crap, that pain was worse than when I broke my knee. I lucked out. I could have really done some damage if I'd landed differently. Fortunately I'm just left with this ENORMOUS bruise, which is really gross in kind of a cool way, and the following day had some back and neck pain I guess from bracing myself. So yeah, I decided not to jump right back into hockey and wait until the end of the week as originally planned. Message received, Universe. Loud and clear.
And the second thing, which is what really prompted me to open up this window in my browser and start typing: I work with this older gentleman who is in his early 70's. Yes, his 70's. He's spry and with-it and funny as hell. He's got more money than God but he keep working because he likes what he does. He gets up early every morning to work out and stretch. And unlike most people his age, he embraces and works very well with all the latest technology. We've worked together for almost 15 years, so when he emailed me yesterday and misspelled my name, I just had to bust his chops about it. He replied "I was just using the short version. You know... the twitter way."
I was sitting here at my desk wondering if it could really be possible that he had a twitter account. It didn't seem likely, but I sure wouldn't put it past him. And something about that amused the hell out of me. As I was sitting here pondering what kind of things he would tweet, if he was on twitter, he stopped by my office and asked how I liked his response. I laughed and said it was good, and he then left no doubt it my mind that he in fact does not have a twitter account.
"I was twitting, see? Actually," (adorable geezer laughter) "I had to ask my wife how to even spell twitter!"
It's too bad really. He'd blow that stupid "shit my dad says" account out of the water. Maybe I'll start a campaign to get him on there. The world needs more old geezer humor.
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