Or #9 (6+3=9), as I prefer. Yep, celebrated the big 63. As a youngster, 30 was old and I didn't expect to live past that. I really started thinking about my mortality when my mother died several years ago, so each year lived is a blessing. Previous birthdays have been spent traveling to various areas, a few surprise parties thrown in for good measure, dinner out, yada yada, but this year, another milestone, was spent waiting for King Cotton to tell me about my car.
When I called to report the ball joint disaster on Tuesday afternoon, I went through a series of "not available" and "someone will call you back a.s.a.p" responses. After finally speaking with someone ("Were you hurt?"), a tow truck was dispatched, lickety split. Abby was loaded onto the flatbed and bobbed and weaved as she went down the driveway. "Don't hurt my car," were my thoughts, as if she were flesh and blood.
Later that night, SF found his way from Nashville to the Big Rip. Drama there, as well. Because the CMA (Country Music Awards, for the unknowing) was being hosted in Nashville, car rentals were scarce as hens' teeth but one finally turned up. Other than getting turned around in Brownsville, at the square, he did good.
I'd told him that since the car hadn't been picked up until late, they wouldn't look at it until the morning. When the call did come, midday on the big day, it was a sure bet that I would not get my car anytime soon. Naturally, the dealership tried to spin it as "we want to make sure that everything is running fine," when in reality, they knew (and I knew) that it was too late to get the parts in and have the car repaired.
They called midday on Thursday to say that the car was ready. When we arrived, everyone's face was dragging the ground. Apologies all around. "This could have been disastrous." Tell me about it. Never admitted to leaving the pin and nut off but with all the replaced parts, at no charge, picking up a portion of the rental fee, etc., it was understood that they were at fault. And, oh, the freebies thrown in...do I really care about getting a free detailing...a $150 package? Pulleeze.
What happened to my plans for dining at my favorite eating place, Paula Deen's? Dropping a few quarters into the slot machine? Truth be told...between the excruciating pain in my arm and the car incident, I lost interest. Didn't want to drive, definitely not in Memphis rush hour traffic, and not at night. So leftovers were the order of the day.
When I left work on the previous Friday, I could barely use my arm. Raising it to punch the keys on the register was problematic; shifting from park to drive to reverse, painful. Laying on the right side had been an impossibility for months. The pain ran from the collarbone to the tips of my fingers. Muscle spasms and waves of pain. The home remedies of heat, popping pills, etc., were not working. I'd put off making a doctor's appointment for months but it was apparent that the call had to be made. I was fearful that I would lose the complete use of my arm, needlessly.
I'd been given the name of a doctor, in Jackson, from a coworker and managed to get an appointment for Friday a.m. Dreading the worse and hoping for the best, we set off for the 8 a.m., appointment. Well, lookey here. Autographed sports paraphernalia everywhere! And, they put me in the Buffalo Bills room! Where is the Redskins room? No such animal. "We beat the Redskins, this year." Hasn't everybody?
One very painful shot later (been there, knew what to expect), prescriptions for painkillers and physical therapy, and an order for non-cashiering duty, we're on our way back to the Bip Rip. Stopped in B'ville and gathered up the Rev for lunch at my favorite restaurant, Carolyn Reed's place, Brownsville Family Restaurant. The food and conversation were excellent, as always.
Sf pulled out for his return trip to Nashville on Saturday a.m. Not a fun trip, this time. On the bright side, however, there was no back-breaking labor to be done. It was such an easy drive until he arrived at the airport almost three hours before his flight.
DAMN! I still haven't seen Nashville. But...I am alive...and looking forward to turning 10. Oh, baby brother? You are now older than I am. LOL!
Be safe. Be Blessed.