Tuesday, February 12, 2008


When "I Love You" Doesn't Seem Like Enough ...

... why not try dragging your loved one down the street behind your car for a bit instead?

All right, I exaggerate, but it wasn't so good. Let me explain.

Life sans vehicular module is sometimes trying and so my father helps out where he can. Today was wet and cold and I had some running around to do after picking Her Surreal Highness up from school. As I'd had about two hours of sleep in the preceding 36 (and not two in a row, either) I called and asked if he'd help out. He was more than happy to do so.

So we picked E up from school and then went to the bank. There was no parking outside the bank so he stopped and let me out of the car and then drove around the block for a bit until I'd finished. I think he'd actually only circled the block once by the time I was finished, and he stopped to let me back in.

His attention was on the traffic and he was wondering if he should turn left or right at the corner.

Apparently his concentration on this was such that he didn't notice that the amount of daughter that he had in his vehicle was deficient to the tune of approximately 70%. I had put one foot in and was in the process of sort of bending down, preparatory to lowering myself onto the seat when he pulled out, dragging me along (albeit only for a few inches. I think the screaming gave him his first clue that all was not well and he stopped almost immediately. He's pretty quick on the uptake).

Most of my weight was in the process of being transferred to the foot that was inside the car, so I was off-balance to start. The subsequent loss of any sort of supporting framework pretty much flung me down onto the road. Apparently on the way down I felt it adviseable to retain a vice-like grip on my purse, so I landed with my full weight on my right knee and the back of my left wrist. (And, surprisingly enough, on several different locations scattered about my left leg, both front and back.)

People rushed to help; one even stopped her car. I live in a pretty nice place where people will help you out when you're in trouble. I was up and on my feet within seconds.

He was very remorseful. It was a case of simple human error, not a case of it being time for a family intervention to take Grandpa's license away. It was still scary as hell.

My first thought -- well right after "Holy Fuck, my father just tried to kill me," -- was "Please don't tell me I've broken anything. I have to dye at least 300 skeins in the next three weeks and I can't do that with a cast on."

Rest assured that nothing is broken. Scraped, bruised, sore as hell and very stiff? Hell yes. Broken? No.

I shall live to dye another day.

But I must say that this is the first time I've found myself lying in a dirty puddle of water in the middle of the street in broad daylight, stone cold sober.

I'm sort of hoping it'll be the last.

Well, there's a first time to everything.
My dad did that to my mum once. Fortunately she was only about 40% out of the car and could swing in not out. She gave (gives) him hell. They are still married though.
Yup. You only need to do that once to be able to say you did it. No further need to be dragged around behind a car. Rest and ice what needs icing!

"Live to dye another day..." That one just cracked me up!
Glad to hear nothing is broken. I hope the rest heals quickly.
Hmmm... that didn't sound like ANY fun whatsoever.
I have a father-in-law whom I've seen do that to his wife four times in 25 years and we only see them a couple times a year. Kind of explains both the general family attitude toward his driving, which he doesn't get, and my relationship with him, which he reciprocates.
I'm so very sorry (for the laughing)I can't even think of something smartassed to say...If that happened to me (1st of all, way creepy, my dad's no longer with us) I definitely would have broken some bones. This kinda ties right in with yesterday's title. You live so clever.
Fires in Chicago, snow, and traffic accidents in Canada? Now I remember why everybody hates February. Please take care of yourself! (and are you sure about that license?)
Well, at least he didn't shut the car door on your hand. Arnica is very good for sprains and bruises; you can get it in ointment to rub on, and in homeopathic pillules to take. I'm not usually much for alternative stuff, but it is truly amazing. The pillules say to take one every five years or something but I eat them like sweeties and they do wonders.
I am -not- laughing. Not.

Glad to hear that you're okay.
You know that I'm only saying this because the ending is (more or less) happy and you are okay...but dude, you are badass. If that had happened to me, I would be in traction for the next three months. You are, like, Starsky, Hutch, Rockford *and* Mannix, all rolled into one. You rock.
Do you have any bruises in the shape of Ireland? Egypt?
Maybe you can creat a colorway in honor of this attempted murder? Down but not Drunk? Aw Damn, I didn't even get a Martini?

Hang in there and ice, ice, ice! Standing outside may accomplish that.
My poor, dear sweet cheeks. Road rash is the worst. So is the loss of one's dignity. I hope you were a good girl and had on underwear when you went ass over teakettle.

I know you lauged at me peeing on my fuzzy slippers because my poor bladder can't hold it for fifteen feet on the way to the bathroom, and I know you lauged when I fell off the pot and got my face rearranged against the wall and floor (not to mention what happened to my legs. I would have laughed at me, too, because it was so ludicrous, but this was serious. I'm really glad you're okay.
"Amount of Daughter Deficient to the Tune of 70%" would make a GREAT headline. Or a good name for a rock band? No... a colorway.

(Uh-oh. Freudian: I originally wrote "sock band," not "rock band." Need bleach, please, stat.)

You can of course solve the last problem by making sure in future that you ALWAYS have sufficient likker on board.

Srsly... glad you ain't dyeing in a cast. Or worse.
Good lord. The last thing you need right now is to prove what further insanities you can survive -- we know you're amazing already! Truly, though, I'm glad you're OK; if you'd broken something, I would have had to fly up there to dye things for you, and that, my friend, would not be pretty. Ice, arnica, aspirin. Scotch. :)
Does your dad wear a jaunty little newsboy cap, and does he say "pull my finger" a lot?

Just seems like he might...

So glad you're okay, chicken.
Um - glad you are okay, but the last bit has me wondering if you have woken up in a dirty puddle of water in the middle of a street in broad daylight drunk. Or is it that you woke up in in a dirty puddle of water in the middle of the night drunk as a skunk?

Or was the puddle clean or not in a street?

I realize that I am starting to sound like Dr. Seuss.
That story will undoubtedly be one that resurfaces at many a future family gathering! I hope the soreness and bumps and bruises mend quickly for you. Maybe a dyeing colorway to match the bruises???
glad you're ok..
So, exactly what colors make up the Daughter Deficiency colorway? Would that be a black, red and grey combination, or is it more a purple, blue and green, with touches of taupe?

Glad to hear none of the injuries are life threatening. I am sure the soreness will not be pleasant for a day or two.

Your father is more direct than my mother. My mom tried to kill me by having me ride with my granddad. Fun times.
"I shall live to dye another day." You are so, very, bad.

I love that about you.

Hey, we haven't had a boob picture in a while! Any interesting bruises on the gazongas?
I lurk often, but never post. But while I feel for you, I laughed my behind off reading this post. When I managed to catch a breath, I then read it out to my husband who proceeded to join in the laughter.

- Tiah
It is amazing the lengths you will go to for blog fodder. I seriously hope that you mend quickly.
I was trying to visualize, step by step, the various body parts hitting the ground, as described...along with the clutch of the purse. For some reason, all I could see was a Twister board LOLOL.
And I think a dyed cast would look awesome. A little soggy, but hey...
Yikes! Next time talk to the man while you get into the car, it'll help focus attention. I hope you heal quickly and well. I'm sure the dyeing will wait patiently. Meanwhile, get some sleep!

"dye another day," snicker-snicker

I bet you are understating the degree to which you are SORE AS HELL. I tripped over something in a dark parking lot once, and thought it was *nothing* -- and I can most assuredly tell you it was NOT NOTHING. It took so long to feel better. It truly did feel like "nothing" at the time, but it was like whiplash, I guess. Are you pushing the ibuprofen? (I hope you are not, like I am, allergic to that stuff, because it would be such a good help in this situation)
I will (sadly) confess to laughing my way through your very sad saga. I am sure you are about as sore as it can get without breaking any parts. But I bet a colorway to match would really sell - heck, everyone would buy it just for the funny story!
Arnica, Arnica, Arnica and then a little more Arnica.

Jeez, I sound like a pusher. (sidles up to Rab and stage whispers)How about a little Rescue Remedy sweetheart?
Really glad you're okay :) Let's try not to have a repeat performance, eh? Some of us have weak hearts :)
When I read "live to dye another day," for a second I wondered if you had just made the whole story up in order to be able to say that punchline. But even you couldn't make up a story like that. Glad you're OK!
That made me wince.
I 2nd the arnica suggestions. Wish you'd a] get some more sleep and b] stop trying to kill yourself / prove how tough you are.

Dude, I'm glad you aren't super-hurt.

But you sure wrote that story funny.
Funny, haha.

Please post a "Do not drink while reading this" sign on your post...I now have coffee on my keyboard.

Did the same thing to my daughter but I stopped and she kept going...head and car door are not friends, let me tell you.
You could always use the guilt to have Dad help dye or package up 300 skeins of yarn!
Hope you heal fast! I can feel the OUCH from here!

(Okay, look, I can't help but laugh at the word verification I have to type in to prove I'm not a spambot. drpupz. Dr. Pupz. Sounds like a new drink)
That is some story. I hope you're healing.
My dad did that to me once when I was a kid, except I was getting in through the sliding door on the side of the van. When I started screaming because I still had one foot on the ground, he stopped, which then caused the sliding door to close on me. Those things are heavy, and it was a while before the bruising up my back left.
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