Friday, January 02, 2015

some very weird things

Some very weird things have happened to me in the past few days.

First, this morning as I put Christmas junk away...or started to do that by piling things on the table, Woody because curious and started wandering among the ornaments and baskets. He batted my new cardinal to the fool and broke his tail feathers off. I had to get out the super strength glue to repair him and ended up gluing my finger to the bird body but having no impact on the broken piece. I had to rip him off my finger. Ouch.

Then Ella and I went to lunch for her birthday to a restaurant where tator tot hotdish was on the menu. This is a staple in Minnesota but not one likely to be found in a restaurant. So as much out of curiosity as anything, I ordered it. It was so odd looking that we stared. It was a soupy bunch of ground meat on the bottom with barely a green bean to be seen, about a dozen tots on top, and the whole business was covered with cheese. Not good. Not good at all. We did have a good laugh over it, however.

This afternoon, Regis stopped home with the transit for a quick break. He locked the door and when he went back out the door wouldn't open. The key would not turn in the lock. He called another driver who told him to get a towing service to come and tow him to the locksmith. Uh oh.

He came in to get Ella, thinking he could get here to climb over the wheelchair ramp which sits vertically in a door that would open. She didn't want to do it so I went out.


The lift looks like this but when it's in the bus, it's vertical and there is an opening of about 18 inches between the top of the lift and the roof of the bus. I had to get a step ladder to reach the bus floor, then swing my leg over the top of the lift, then swing my other leg up, shinny through that small hole, then try to lower myself without landing on my head. All this done on a public street. I'm sure it was a lovely visual.

I managed it without injury and Regis was on his merry way. I told him that if he shared the story, to make me the hero.

When he came home I asked if this misadventure had been the talk of the transit drivers. He looked a little sheepish and told me he had been using the wrong key. The key to open the door was in his pocket the whole time.


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