Sunday, January 16, 2011


The Disabled Guy has been working in the shop a lot. Normally, he doesn't work out there this time of year. Its cold and without rewiring the entire shop and possibly the house, there's no way to heat it efficiently. I've suggested many times that he use a wood stove. I've been in a few garages where a wood stove in the corner warmed a room much larger than his shop.

He just finished building a plant stand for an orchestra parent we know. And now he's working on a new sofa for our living room. I know, you're thinking to yourself that he just built one. He did, very recently. But he thinks its uncomfortable to sit on and wants one that is "squishier". I'm fairly sure he's trying to get it done before NASCAR season takes off.

He came into the house today, inquired as to what I'm watching on TV ("NCIS" marathon, in case you're wondering- I don't usually watch this show, but its not bad) and went to the basement (through the kitchen). Moments later he comes back upstairs. "What the hell?" and he walked into the dining room (where I am, with the computer and I can see the TV in the living room) asking, "Do you see any blood- oh, there it is..."

He was dripping blood from a scrape on the knuckles of his paralyzed hand. His hand is quite cold (because he doesn't wear gloves or mittens, even while shoveling snow), so the blood wasn't streaming as it would have been because of his blood thinners. Some heavy stuff was going down on the show and I told him to wash it up and come back in here so I could finish the job.

I told him to "hold up" his arm, so I could reach his hand. He swept up his paralyzed arm with his good arm and made a noise- something like: "Hhhuuuwaaaaaaaaaa!" and it ended all breathe-y, almost asthmatic. I asked, "What are you doing?"

He made more noises, as if in a bad martial arts movie, again, ending in the asthmatic wheeze-y sound. "You okay?" I ask.

DG: "Of course I am." He started giggling maniacally. I asked how he fell down. "I dunno. I was walking and then my feet got caught up and I went down. Like that Tom Petty song."

Me: "You mean 'Free Falling'?"

DG: "Yeah, I was just going down, and the garbage can fell on me." (its plastic, don't worry).

Me: "That doesn't sound much like a free-fall." I had to tell him again to raise his arm up so I could get to it and he made that breathe-y martial arts noise again. "What the hell are you doing?!"

DG: "Humming!"

Me: "That's not humming."

DG: "I didn't say I was humming! Where do you get that?"

I repeated what we just said to each other. "Humming!"

*Just now, he came in and had me pop a blister- "Or a splinter, I'm not sure what it is."- it was a blister*

Anyway, while I put a band-aid on his knuckle, he argued with me as to the fact that he exclaimed "Humming!" in reply to my question. And now I have to change the channel because I've seen this episode of "NCIS" and I didn't like it the first time around.

Spoiled dogs and a baked potato

The Disabled Guy spoils the little dogs. We all know of his special baby-talk that he has for them and the conversations he has with them. And I've shared photos of the Chis with him and without him. This is about one Chi in particular- Bruno. Bruno is the first offspring from Luna and Jasper. That whole incident took place while I was in the hospital recovering from a total knee replacement. Had I been home, I would have noticed the signs and been able to separate them (as in, sending one of them to my friend's house). But at the time, I'd been in the hospital for almost two weeks. Also, we stupidly assumed that Jasper wasn't old enough at the time (he was barely nine months old). Anyway, the result is Bruno. Bruno is a beast. He was the only puppy in the litter. A litter of one. And he was normal Chihuahua puppy-sized when he was born.

We decided to keep him because he was the only pup in the litter and he's a tri-color merle. He grew.

And grew.

And grew.


This conversation has happened before and I thought I had shared it, but it doesn't seem that I did.

Bruno ended up not only large in comparison to his parents, he ended up large by general Chihuahua standards. The last time he was weighed, he was around fourteen pounds. He's not just fat, he's all-around BIG!

I was informed today that the reason Bruno is so big is that he ate his siblings. That's right, he ate the other puppies in his litter while he was inside Luna. And in eating those other puppies, he gained their power. An unwanted side-effect of gaining their power was the overall largeness of Bruno's physical body.

DG: "Its not his fault. He ate them and got big and strong. Too big. Poor guy. He didn't know eating his brothers and sisters would be such a bad thing and now here he is, Giant Bruno with no brothers and sisters." (he has siblings, they're just not from his litter- the litter of one).

Me: "Why did he eat the other puppies?"

DG: "So he could be- to be- so he could have power! Super Chihuahua power! To fly! And fight crime! But now he's just too damn big and can't fly. So he stays with us because he's safe. Safe from the bad guys!" Of course, when he spoke of flying, he did the hand gesture and made the "schwoooosh" sound effect.

On another note altogether, DG was rambling on about something and walked away from me while he was speaking. I called out, "What'd you say?"

DG replied, "NOTHING!"

Me: "SOMETHING! What'd you say, I can't hear you from in there." (the kitchen, on my deaf ear side).

DG: *sing-song* "If you can't HEAR it, you can't WRITE about it! AND its ALLLLLLLL MIIIIINE!"

Me: "I'm putting that in the blog."

DG: "Dammit! Foiled! Like a baked potato!"