Kryptonite Redux

Kryptonite is found in large quantities at Euchre parties and stores like Hobby Lobby

Kryptonite is found in large quantities at Euchre parties and stores like Hobby Lobby

Every day, according to my blog stats, search for “kryptonite” hits my blog. I think I’ve written about the DC Comics element a couple of times, both here and at 360.yahoo.com. Places like Hobby Lobby stores are chalk full of it. Last night it came into my house in the form of a ladies’ Euchre party. I left the house and bought myself a Hawaiian print shirt, then went to the cinema and watched the new Star Trek motion picture.

I was able to escape from a house filled with Kryptonite by beaming aboard the Enterprise

I was able to escape from a house filled with Kryptonite by beaming aboard the Enterprise

Great movie, by the way. I’ve been waiting to see it since I was 11 or 12 years old. That is to say, this was what the previous Star Trek movies should have been.

Kryptonite Re-Fricking-Dux

kryptoniteWe’re heading up to Nashville to participate in a social activity where we’ll see a couple of friends and their infant triplets. Sounded like fun to me.

So yesterday evening, as I ‘m eating supper, my wife says to me, “Now, you remember, on the way back I said I need to stop at Hobby-Lobby, so don’t get mad, you can stay in the car with Seventy-Six.” Um, remember? I don’t recall that she said anything of the sort to me at any time during any of our discussions of the day’s projected activities. Then she said, “Maybe, if you want, depending on what time it is, we can stop for lunch at Macaroni Grill.” Yeah, like that’ll make it alright. After the torture of either going into, milling about in a kryptonite induced stupor having to smell artsy people who think patchouli oil somehow marks them as “creative” and “different,” or waiting interminably in the car trying to explain to our nine month-old boy why we can’t be at home playing with cars, blocks, or reading books; well, after that, imagine wanting to eat in a restaurant. It defies sense.

In case you didn’t know it, Hobby-Lobby is a store where you can buy some legitimate art supplies, but is stuffed full of decorations from Red China and the Indian Subcontinent that would all make admirable pistol targets. Then, there are the fluffy froo craft and scrapbooking items wall to wall that, in combination with the tasteless decor items, like kryptonite drain my superhuman strength, will, and intelligence, reducing me to childlike levels of eyes-glazed-over, inarticulate, I-need-a-nap-now boredom.

Ugh.

Skeletal Adjustment & Shopping Saturday

Hoping my shoulder problem was not a rotator cuff injury of the sort for which surgery is the recommended treatment, I called a chiropractor in the town where I work to see about getting a skeletal adjustment. Multiple automobile wrecks when younger, sundry other injuries, gave me reason to think the chronic shoulder and other pain is related. Interconnectedness of bone and sinew, and so forth.

Last time I saw a chiropractor was in the mid-nineties, and the one-time adjustment helped a lot. Earlier, in the 1980s, I got relatively frequent adjustments from Frank N. Roje at San Pedro. Frank’s method did not involve racking and cracking, but the guy I saw yesterday did just that. Although still in some pain, it’s way less severe.

Home from work yesterday afternoon, I cleaned out the refrigerator. Man, what a lot of food we waste. Caution-Lady’s gorge rises in the presence of anything that’s been too long growing mold, so she tends to “not see” things in the fridge that need thrown out. I guess as long as she can handle changing the little monkey’s fecally diapers (because Daddy’s gorge sure enough do rise then), I can tolerate throwing out the stuff my wife’s scared of.

I’m not paddling today, but will spend time with Caution-Lady and Seventy-Six. We’ve got to buy a new television that will work with our new DVD player. I’ll probably have to go to at least one department store to shop with my wife for her sister-in-law’s latest baby’s Christmas gift outfit. I know already my eyes and mind will glaze over, and I’ll be looking for a place to take a nap. Kryptonite.

Kryptonite

About 25 years ago, I could set and glaze window panes without the slightest difficulty. Yesterday, I had a lot of trouble. Not only that, but I felt all day like I’d been drinking Kryptonite milkshakes – fat, tired, listless, insipid. I made mess out of part of one window, then gave it up as a bad job. Maybe I will return to the task come fall. Went back into the house and played with the baby, fed him, nodded off while feeding him.

Little '76 waiting with Daddy outside the baby stores at the outdoor mall. He's playing with a toy that reminds one of a demonic Aztec bird soul-snatcher, but the kid likes the duck-toy, and lacks Daddy's theological baggage

In the afternoon, my wife and I drove to Murfreesboro to meet a Nashville couple we know. They’ve got triplets, born a month before our son, but very tiny still. The mall has all its shops outdoors, and all of the baby stores in one area. Sort of like a baby park. Interesting to see, meet, speak with so many parents with their infants and small children. The triplets, in their triplet stroller (with steering wheel) attracted a lot of attention.

Jon and I debated whether Elmo is a demonic squirrel. I said he is, as evidenced by the fact that he’s red and sings. Jon claimed Elmo’s nothing like the demonic squirrels he had as pets, or familiars, when he was a kid. I asked how he could be so sure, and he claimed he couldn’t tell me on account of a sulphuric oath. My guess is he couldn’t think of a nonsense response sufficiently amusing to win the debate.

We ate at a girly restaurant called Mimi’s built of frame and stucco to resemble a WWI French inn of the sort where you might see Snoopy in flying helmet drinking rootbeer, cursing the stupidness of that most unnecessary and stupid of wars. My headache began splitting after supper while the wives shopped for more baby clothes bargains. The triplets began to fuss, and their mother told their father, “Jon, they’re falling apart…”

“Me too,” I thought.

At home I crashed. A cold? Kryptonite in my toothpaste? Who knows. I’m not a hundred percent today, either.

Accomplished nothing this weekend.

Ugh.