Tag Archives: skateboarder

Poop Patrol

5 Feb

Sirskatesalot and I walked the pooches yesterday.  A very, very leisurely 20 minute stroll with me limping behind.  It was nice to get outside and move, however slowly.  Then Sirbarksalot (little black lab) went to the bathroom.  No biggie, normal walk.  I take poop bag off leash, clean up and off we go…galump, galump.  Then Sirbiggestgoldenontheplanet has to poop.  Ok, cool.  Another nice break from galumping along.  But Sirskatesalot has Sirbiggestgoldenontheplanet and no poop bag.  Duh.

“You don’t have a bag?”  Sirskatesalot answers, “No, I didn’t notice we only had one.”  Great. What to do now?  I have one, shit filled poop bag and another gigantic, steaming turd on a neighbor’s lawn.  Sirskatesalot is nothing if not resourceful. Remember, he is a skateboarder.  He asks for Sirbarksalot’s poop filled bag and opens it, figures a way to scoop up shit from Sirbiggestgoldenontheplanet and makes it all fit! I must say, I am impressed.  He didn’t use shoe goo or a skateboard and he didn’t even get any on his hand.

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Rebel Patient

25 Jan

Within 36 hours, I broke my stormtrooper boot.  Yep, snapped that necessary velcro strap clean off the boot.  Thank goodness I married a skateboarder.  They are crafty and used to making due with random shit. Skateboarders can bandage a wound and move an entire household with just shoe goo and a skateboard.  I am not kidding.  Russ used shoe goo to mend our furniture and his shoes for many years.  His skateboard has provided dolly service to us for more moves than I can count.  Laugh if you want, but this is true.  Do you even know a skateboarder?  If you do, your life is fuller, and gooier.

So Saturday after my surgery when the stormtrooper boot busted wide open, Super Skateboard Husband busied himself in the mess of our garage/art studio/laundry room/who knows and came out looking like Clark Kent exiting the phone booth only instead of a cape, he had…a dirty, black velcro strap!  My boot was skateboarder christened and I asked no questions.  I was relieved I would not have to skip my 15 minute standing intervals until Monday.

Then, Sunday morning my daughter brought me my “pump you up” pump that literally pumps up my boot.  However, it had been mauled by our black lab.  I knew I was doomed for my first pre-op appointment.  Staggering in with a dirty black strap on my broken storm trooper boot with a chewed up pump.  Rebel patient with a knack for destruction.

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