Whenever I hear or read that phrase, I always catch at least a glimpse of my 5-y.o. self grabbing the tail of the mean cat from next door and hammer-throwing it back across the fence. Good times. . .
It’s the Little Things #4,831 *heh*
I kinda wonder sometimes. . . I see snippets of TV (because I rarely see anything worth watching for a longer time), and programs that show characters riding horseback are, at best, a mixed bag. Sometimes, they’re just sacks of potatoes jouncing along. Painfully. At other times, I see riders posting the trot, but even then it’s usually very badly–often because their stirrups are badly hung.
I really have to wonder what the various people involved in the filming–from the actors to the directors to, well, whatever horse wrangler they may (or may not?) have are thinking. *smh*
But then, there’s the “Little Thing” #10 (and I am surprised there are any more highly ranked, but then. . . ): complete, total, and absolute blank space where firearms knowledge should exist in the script, direction, and action. That’s higher ranked, of course, because it’s dangerous (and not only on the set!).
Never Thought of That Before. . .
Just read a narrative describing some “eastern Über-urban greenhorns'” first experience tacking up and riding horses. I had never before considered just how intimidating horses could be to someone from such sheltered backgrounds. *shrugs* It had just never occurred to me.
*heh* Further descriptive narrative from short “horse trek” event: “Watch that back leg so he can’t cock his guns and [‘cow’-] kick you, and mind yer back when you pull off the bridle so he can’t bite you. . .” Yeh, probably the second and third lessons taught me by one cantankerous old guy. The first one was memorable (and I still remember it when the weather changes): watch your feet–or better yet, the horse’s feet.
My Ever-Expanding World!
Left the house for the first time in nearly two weeks this morning. Went 10 yards. Installed new headlamp in Son&Heir’s car. Came back in. That’s enough for this week.
Checklist
Runny nose — Check
Headache — Check
Fatigue — Check
Sneezing — 60%.
Sore throat — Check (minor, from drainage; progressed to major, for a few hours until ameliorative effects too hold)
Persistent cough — Check (Well, intermittently persistent *heh*)
Hoarse voice — Check (But that’s pretty normal from time ti time nowadays; progressed to full-blown laryngitis, but that’s been a lifelong likelihood with such illesses)
Chills or shivers — Check
Fever — Check
Dizziness — Check
Brain fog — Check (Or is that Olde Pharte Syndrome?)
Muscle pains — Check
Loss of smell — Nope. (Just slightly dulled)
Chest pain — Check
So, pretty much a Winter cold. Fever was pretty bad last night, but broke this AM (somewhere between 0444 and 1038 — I got back to sleep between those times, so can’t pin down the time any better).
Is it Omicron? I do not care. Apparently, I’m going to survive a Winter cold. Who knew? Been doing that for 70+ years, so there was a decent chance I’d live through it.
Oh, earaches, but again, those are pretty much normal for me with colds. Lil warm olive oil, cotton balls. Worked a charm.
One week beyond the above: I see to have mostly seen the back of this checklist, apart from muscle aches and fatigue, which are still very much hanging on, but I understand from my primary care doc that I should expect a slow recovery from those symptoms. My blood oximeter readings are not all that encouraging, falling below both my own norms and what is considered a baseline optimum of 95. Deep breathing exercises seem to ameliorate this, though.
You’re Not the Boss of Me!
I Used to Be an Ordinary, Everyday Dumbass. . .
. . .but I wised up. Now I am an exceptional smart-ass.
When Acrobats Flip Out. . .
. . .they do so gracefully.
Fun Lil Bit of Dialog
From Ghost by John Ringo:
“I do odd jobs,” Mike replied, sitting in one of the forward seats.
“If you’ll pardon me, sir,” the pilot said, still curious. “You don’t get the money to charter a jet, much less have it sit around on call, by digging ditches with a shovel.”
“I’ve used a shovel in my time,” Mike said, smiling broadly. “But I usually prefer to find the local guy with a backhoe. Quicker and easier to hide the bodies. You ready to go?”
Sometimes — just sometimes — I’d not mind being “Mike’s” backhoe operator. . . Well, a guy can still dream, can’t he? 😉
*shrugs* Sometimes — OK, Rarely — BrE Just Makes More Sense
For example, the Standard British English pronunciation of “echidna” is much more mellifluous than the Standard American English pronunciation.
Offhand, that’s about all I can think of that makes more sense in BrE. *heh*
(OK, OK, I suppose one could argue that the BrE silliness of calling a kitchen oven a “cooker” makes at least some sort of sense. . . in a rather vulgar sense — and I do mean “vulgar” in the nontechnical linguistic sense of “language of a lower order,” not in the vulgar, actually degraded, and flat-out wrong contemporary sense of “profanity” — which is also most often used in a degraded, and flat-out wrong sense nowadays. *sigh*)