Uff da! Oy Vey! It’s been one of those weeks. Not for me, but for a friend. I’ve just been busy and haven’t gotten stuff done. But one of my friends was in an ATV accident this weekend. On his birthday no less. He’s gonna live, but he’s pretty busted up. Bruised ribs, 70 stitches to the face and a broken shoulder (collar bone, shoulder blade and socket). It’s times like these that I’m reminded of one of the very first Conan comics (Savage Sword of Conan # 133: Winter of the Wolf) I bought back in high school. conan can hit

It’s not how hard you can hit, but how hard you can get hit and keep going. He’s gonna keep going.

I missed my chiropractor appointment yesterday because I simply forgot about it. I had worked until midnight Sunday, then went to the hospital. I was off Monday, but was busy doing stuff around the house. Tuesday I made 6 1/2 pounds of salisbury steak for dinner, with half being taken over to our friend and his wife so they don’t have to cook. I then went to lunch with my Father in Law, then over to his house to install some mirrors. When I got done with that I picked up my daughter from school, had her help me remove two ceiling fans, reinstall one and install a new light in her bedroom (fan hung over her new lofted bed, it was an accident waiting to happen), before taking dinner over to our friends and then back home to eat ourselves with my Father in Law (the in laws just moved to town and Mother in Law is currently out of town, so we’re making sure he eats decently). In the midst of that I missed my chiropractor appt. Luckily I was able to reschedule for today.

I was on Goodreads earlier today and noticed that one of our bookclub members is now “user deleted” which brings a tear to my eye. She disappeared from the group (stopped posting) several months back. We found out just recently that she passed from cancer. Looks like her husband started deleting her old online accounts now. It’s emotionally traumatic seeing people you know, even just virtually, disappearing from the places you expect to see them. When I was a senior our dog, Missy, passed away. She was 17 and we’d had her since she was about 3. She had a favorite spot she would lay in the garage. She had moved the pea-gravel around so it was kind of like a cool bed for her to lay on during the hot summers. It wasn’t until I had been away at college that fall that I didn’t look to that spot every time I walked out the door. Seeing her spot empty brought back the loss, just a little bit, every day. Moving on is hard.