Author: Judd, Brooks

Delayed from Friday

It appears our fearless and industrious Chairman of the Board is still suffering from the effects of the voodoo doll I jokingly stuck a few well placed pins into. If it weren’t so painful for Rick, this litany of horrors would be laughable. I feel terrible about this. My friend has been achingly made aware that being “retired” might not be the best choice for him. The CBA sends out a collective chant of “That’s enough!!” and we demand that the accident imps and demons leave Rick alone and take their cuts, scrapes and bruises to someone else; maybe a rap singer or an Enron executive. I hear Bernie Madoff could use a few bumps and bruises or at least a kick in the pants. (The doll now has Bernie’s face on it)

2. News of the weird: A New Zealand newspaper ran this story. “Trucker inflated after falling on Air Tank.” New Zealand truck driver Steven McCormack fell onto the nozzle of a tank of compressed air, inadvertently “inflating” himself through his buttock. No, really; the air (compressed at 100 psi) forced its way into his skin: “I felt the air rush into my body and I felt like I was going to explode from my foot,” Mc Cormack said. “I was blowing up like a football… it felt like I had the bends-like in diving. I had no choice but just to lie there, blowing up like a balloon.” The ambulance took an hour to arrive, but doctors got to him in time-he’s recovering in the hospital now. Please no jokes about being filled with hot air or having an inflated ego.
3. The Father’s Day Festival is a couple of weeks away and the rain is still coming down. Maybe CBA volunteers will have to form a conga line and chant, “No Rain, No Rain!! What is with the weather? Fingers are collectively crossed in hopes that our Father’s Day week is filled with blue skies, a couple of scattered clouds, bluegrass folks warmed by Mr. Sun, tempered with just a trace of pine scented wind wafting in lazily throughout the camp sites.

4. I have been suffering from my own back and knee problems. It is virtually impossible to go about my normal routine. My chances of attending this year’s festival are slim and rely on the effectiveness of a procedure called a lumbar medial branch block that if effective will block the pain I am having.

5. I had to go for a blood test (no, I didn’t study for it) and I was led into the “drawing” room by a friendly Suttter/Gould nurse. I sat down and offered up my arm. She smiled and sat down in the chair across from me. I was confused. How was she going to draw my blood sitting way over there? A young man of about 20 or so appeared out of nowhere and said, “Hello, my name is Don. I am a resident and learning how to take blood. Do you mind if I practice on you?”
Now, do you remember that famous skit a long time ago when a mugger approaches Jack Benny on a Beverly Hills sidewalk points a gun at Jack and bellows, “Your money or your life?” After what seems like a lifetime of silence the mugger impatiently blurts out, “Well?” and Jack responds, “I’m thinking, I’m thinking!”

I waited a long time before I responded. Don said, “Well?” I replied, “Do I have a choice?” and Don stated, “Sure you do.” Staring at the smiling nurse, I offered up my sacrificial arm to Don and silently mouthed the words, “You’re responsible.” In less than a minute the needle was in, blood drawn, band aid in place, and I was thanking Don for what a god job he had done. The nurse beamed, Don beamed, and I beamed. I breathed a sigh of relief as I headed out the door.

6. Now here is the real surprise. Sunday morning my doctor calls me at 9 A.M. from his own house with the results. How many of you out there have had your doctor call on a week-end from their home with your test results? What next, a doctor who makes house calls?

7. A belated warm and heart-felt Memorial Day thank you to all the men and women in our armed forces. A nation thanks you.

Until July, read a book, hug a child, pet a dog, stroke a cat, and for heavens sake dance like no one is watching.

Posted:  6/6/2011

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