MY World Journal Post (8)

Continuation from yesterday.

Thursday: September 30, 1971

After I had fallen from the freight car my cousins helped me home. My sister Jacey (Helen) was home and asked my what had happened, I said, "please don't tell ma", and she said, "I promise I won't tell". With this reassurance, I began to tell her what had happened. Her reply was, "ma is going to kill you" - (at that time Jacey was 14 years old and I was 9) - I could always rely on her for protection and good counsel.
The first thing she did was put me to bed and make me as comfortable as she knew how to. By this time my left elbow was giving me a lot of pain. Jacey said, "Don't show your pain, ma is coming home and you'll get a beating". With this reminder, I bore the pain.
My mother came home and she asked why I was in bed, Jacey said, "He isn't feeling good, and I put him to bed".
I do not know how I endured the pain for 9 horrifying days. Each day it felt worse than the previous day. My mother suspected something was wrong with me and she asked if I was alright. I kept insisting everything was fine and went so far as to open and close the door with my fractured elbow.
After nine days of excruciating pain, I began to let my feelings be known and told my mother my arm hurt.

MY World Journal Post (7)

Another post from my grandfathers journal.

Wednesday: September 29, 1971

It was a beautiful Spring day in May 1939, our spring vacation from school. My two cousins came over to play with me (Edwin and Alfred). Edwin suggested we go to Revere Beach and spend the day there. I was sort of hesitant at first because my mother told me to stay around the house. Alfred kept calling me a sissy and a ma-ma's boy. In my anger, I went with them.
We did not go to Revere, instead we played tag at the freight yard. The freight yard had four lines of tracks running parallel with one another. All the tracks were full of freight cars.
Like boys we climbed up to the top of the car and we began to jump from one train to another. We began a game of tag and my cousin began to chase me. In my excitement, I started to climb down the ladder of the train, but missed the first rung and fell backwards onto the cement pavement below.
A feeling of awe come over me, followed by a dull sensation in my left arm. I became very frightened and I cried uncontrollably. For some strange reason I tried to lift my left arm with my right hand only to have my are fall, like it did not belong to my body.
Then a new fear came over me, my mother, I thought, she told me to stay around the house and I didn't, she's going to kill me. Little did I know that I was entering into a whole new world of pain, anxieties and fear.

This journal entry starts off an interesting segments of other entries. I will do my best to post them in order.

MRI Experience

My wrists hurt. A fuckin' ton at times. For many years now. A while back (2 years) I mentioned it to my doctor, who mindlessly referred me to the sports med. people ,who again mindlessly advised me to exercise the muscles in my wrist and forearm. Have you seen my forearms?..like my father and brother they resemble THIS GUY. Really. There huge. Muscle strength is NOT the problem. Trust me.

Recently I mention it again to another of my doctors (Ah, HMOS, never see the same guy twice) and intelligently (finally a thinker and cyclist I might add) get referred to a hand/wrist specialist. Who then says 'I think you got ganglion cysts'. Scary sounding, i know. He says, 'we should set you up with an MRI.'Have you had an MRI? They stick you in a tube as loud as a electric clothes dryer with nothing but sneakers in it and say..' ok, don't move for the next 60 minutes...did you bring music?'

Of course I did. Pink Floyd-Dark Side of the Moon bitches!

After it's all said and done I ask for a copy of the MRI. Which I got by asking at least three people...'Can I get a copy of this?' Thinking of course the whole time, THIS WILL BE A GREAT POST. The image above is a cropped screen cap of one slice of my right wrist. Doya see that little bright spot on the right image? Thats a bag of fluid that hurts like a mother fuckah when I do...well, most anything.
So, now I now have confirmed scientific data of the problem and that it's not extreme enough to actually do anything. Sweet. I just live with the pain and know why I have it. whoop-dee-fuckin-doo. I wonder now how much the insurance company will fuck me for? the bill hasn't come in yet. But HEY, at least I got a good blog post. AM I RIGHT?

I write this post and the only knowledge I can pass on is: Live with the pain unless you got a huge bubble sticking out and Bring DSOM to your MRI, it'll put you in a mental mode like you just smoked a big fatty.

Peace and good health to you.

**UPDATE** 

At the suggestion of a homeopathic doctor I have taken Alfalfa supplements as a 'cure'.   This is working for me.  When ever I feel the ache start up in my wrists (usually after a lot of bike riding) I will take 3 or 4 with a meal.  I will take them a few more times over the following couple of days. Some time I only need to take them once on one day. Other times for a couple of days in a row.  It seems to work for me and I don't have to endure days and even weeks of pain in my wrists.

Dogone Saturday

It's Saturday morning and the dogs are I are about to go on the 2 hour nature hike/walk over at Jamies Pond. Part of the family is comming up today so I had better get going and take the edge off the dogs energy.

In this pic they are with one of their favorite toys, 'the piggy'. its actually a ground hog with a grunting squeaker.

Addie on the left. Watson on the right. They are brother and sister but one year apart. Watson is older.

Art Friday

Here's another installment of art day. This one i believe is done in pen and pencil. I don't know the size but it was done in September 1979 and is titled:

ART CRITICS.

visit the artist: STEVE DEAN

Junk In My Trunk

Holly Hall put up a post today showing us the inside of her car trunk and I commented that the items in the trunk are an introspective of their life and that it sounded like a meme. So, with that, the tag was on and now I present to you my trunk:

First, its not a proper a trunk. It's an VW golf hatch back. The seats are in the down position to maximize space for the dogs, which only really means I can fit WAY more shit in there than I need to and have to empty it every weekend to take Thing 1 and Thing 2 to the trails. But any way in there is:

• my fixed gear bike;
• dog leashes;
• jumper cables;
• extra hat;
• work field bag (hard hat, steel toe boots, extra warm clothes, rain coat, first aid kit, rock hammer, some tools and other crap);
• and of course my Delorme Maine Atlas. (If you can't find it with this map. you deserve to be lost.)

There we have it. who to tag? meh, Ill let it ride.

MY World Journal Post (6)

Monday, September 27, 1971

My mother and father are two people ordinary in every aspect, but a couple that were unique together.
I can remember the joy my father gave us. Like his home made violin, why that damn thing fell apart more than it was whole, but he was never discouraged because he would conjure up his home made glue and clamps, put the violin together, tie it up with clothesline and he would then leave it to harden; like a month! If he got two days play from it, after all that trouble and patience, he would be very pleased.
That is one of many funny stories about this loveable man. (My whole family loved him deeply.)
He worked on one job for 39 years and he only took an afternoon off to become an American citizen. That day was about the happiest day of his life.

Grafiti Art

Near my job place in Portland a local club allows some graffiti art on their back wall. These guys have some serious talent. Here is a small portion of the wall:

My critique would be to work on composure and structure. Less words and faces scattered all over the 'canvas' and more uniform themes would really make this art stand up. But what the fuck do I know?

Daddy blog

It's hard not to do a little daddy-blogging these days, what with such a cute kid an all. Plus for my family that stops by (and a few readers), I know they like to see new pics of LilGuns.

This was taken during tubby time yesterday. At 2.5 weeks he can hold his head up pretty good, turn that mellon left to right and hold up his uppper body with his arms for a short time. He's advanced ;) .

Mushroom Identification -deux

Found a really cool looking group of mushrooms in the yard recently. It only took me a 12 times to get the camera settings just right to get this good, upclose picture. For scale my finger segments are about 1 inch each.

What is it and can I eat it?

Here is a previous post on mushroom identification that I posted.

Light-en it up.

Yesterday I was foolin' around with my digital camera and found that it can do 8 second exposures.
After it got dark I shut off the lights and set up the long exposure mode, practiced waving my arms around and took these pictures.

The left one I simply wrote my name, backwards in cursive using my cellphone.

The one to the right I just tried to outline my body using two small single LED book reading lights.

Fun with photography. Whaddyah think?

Earth Science Week

This week is EARTH SCIENCE WEEK.

pass it on to your kids science teacher.

Friday roamin'

A nice day.

I was out riding my fixed gear bike at lunch today and decided to go done to the Maine State Pier. The weather is unbelievable today: light wind, full sun, 68 deg. F...PERFECT!

Hope you enjoy the pic.

VPMilf - Real Doll

It was a couple of weeks ago that the dirty idea was spawned. It all started HERE with talk of the Sarah Palin school girl action figure.

Since, it is well known and clear that the Republican vice-presidentail candidate is:

• a mostly undeniable POA ;
• very uninformed;
• apparently doesn't read newspapers;
• is part of a relig-o-crazy group that is one step above snake handler;
• and this is the USA;

she makes a great target.
So the step I took was not just to make any doll of Palin but the best one possible for a woman of her prowess and stature, a REAL DOLL (link NSFW)! In order to imagine what the result of such a doll would be I lifted and image from the Real Doll website (i hope thats cool with them, lemme know) and work my meager photoshop...i mean paint shop pro 4 skills, and this is how I see it:AYFKM! The sales would be through the roof. Especially, if those two managed to steal the election. Can you imagine the number of sick fucks that'd be like...

"Yeah, Im bangin' the Governor of Alaska...kindah"

My World Journal Post (5)

When on a roll....Roll.

Tuesday: September 28, 1971

My mother, the backbone of our home, she gave birth to four children all at home and with no doctor to assist her. The amazing thing [gj: that's not the amazing thing!?] was that after each of us was born, she would get up from bed and get my fathers supper. She is a very immaculate person, even today at 85 years, she still prefers to wash her clothes by hand and scrub the stairs on her knees.
She punished us when we deserved it (or not). All the times I got a licken from her, I forgot the words, or not. She was a firm believer in respect for older people.
She was so proud, that even if we didn't have food and someone offered some to her, she would say she had plenty. That woman as proud and as hard as she tried to make us believe she was really as warm and soft as a rose in June.
She proved this time and time again As I will express in my daily journals.
*****************************
I'm told that in this picture Babcia (Polish for Grandmother) is drinking whiskey from her favorite glass. As I sit here and drink whiskey out of my own. I guess it's in the gene pool.

My World Journal Post

Another page from my grandfathers journal:

Tuesday, September 21, 1971

The world that I had lived in was not one filled with geography or history, but rather one filled with vulgarisms and anxieties, love, joy, sorrow and most of all - religion.

I can remember when I was very young during the depression years. We lived near the waterfront in Chelsea, a suburb of Boston, near the Mystic River. That section of the city was called Little Warsaw, due to the fact that everyone on that street (Medford Street) was from Polish extraction.
My mother and father could hardly speak or understand any English, so it would be apparent that I was in the same boat.

Ordinarily, this would be a disaster but it wasn't because all my neighbors and friends spoke the same language.

We were educated in the Saint Stanislaus School. It was there that I learned how to speak English.

The days in school were split up into two parts, the first part of the day was English and the second part of the day was Polish. I did not understand what the nun was talking about when my lessons were in English, but I did very well with my Polish Lessons. As a result, I had to stay in the first grade again.

Those days were very difficult for me because while those good and dedicated nuns were trying to teach me my lessons, my mind would be in 'Little Warsaw', swimming for bananas that would fall from the banana boats or making crab traps. But those thoughts would soon end when the nun would catch me day dreaming.

No matter how hard I tried to pay attention in school, my mind would always drift off, into my world, time and time again.

I can remember how frightened I was of the nuns the first day of school, especially when they spoke a foreign language - English.
**************************************************
previous journal enteries. 1. 2. 3.