I feel like I’m a character in one of those Final Destination movies. The reason? Well, way back when I was in fourth grade, I was helping my gym glass set up the trampoline. At one point, a section of the equipment clamped down on my fingers but I was able to quickly slip my hand away without suffering any damage. Stevie Robertson, a classmate who would later gain some Allancroft Elementary School-level fame by pummeling a bully two grades his senior, was standing nearby and remarked: “You just got your fingers massacred.” “No,”I told him. “I’m fine.” And wiggled my fingers to show him I had escaped any serious injury. Then, seconds later, a section of the trampoline sprang back and broke my arm, snapping the wrist in two places. What has stuck with me about that incident – besides the horrific injury sustained, the six hours I spent at the Lakeshore General Hospital emergency room waiting for treatment, or the fact that they eventually realized they’d set the bone incorrectly and had to re-break it – was that brush with danger and disaster, not denied as I’d originally imagined, but merely delayed.
Flash-forward to this morning. The dogs had come back in from the backyard but I couldn’t find Lulu, so I went outside to look for her – not realizing she was upstairs in Akemi’s room, trying to rustle our guest out of bed. I’m not exactly sure what my deck is made out of but when wet, it’s like one of those hilariously treacherous walkways suspended over a vat of whipped wasabi they make the contestants negotiate on the Japanese games-shows. My feet slipped out from underneath and I landed hard, hitting the top step, though thankfully not quite its corner, managing to take the brunt of the impact with my butt and outstretched arms. I slid down the next two steps and rose, remarkably, uninjured. It could have – and, frankly, should have – gone much worse for me. I could have caught that corner, injured my lower back, my legs, or possibly even shattered my wrists when I swung my hands around to cushion to my fall. Disaster denied. Or delayed? Suffice it to say that with the memory of that trampoline incident forever in the back of my mind, I was extra cautious today.
Still, if Hollywood has taught us anything, it’s that – to quote Peter DeLuise – “Death holds a grudge.” And I fear it’s slow-witted step-brother is just as petty.
Last night, Akemi and I had dinner at ReFuel. Unfortunately, after talking up the crispy duck for two days, I was disappointed to learn that they were out. So, instead, we had a variety of alternate items including:
We were pretty stuffed and, as a result, ended up sharing dessert. Three to be exact…
I was planning to take Akemi to the art gallery today (I hear Vancouver has one) but she suggested just staying home for the day – which was perfectly fine with me. After perusing my considerable library of Asian dvds, we ended up watching the live-action GTO movie – a truly terrible feature based on a truly awesome anime series. We took the dogs for a walk and gave Bubba a bath…
Bath-time for Bubba
Tomorrow, we’ll track down that legendary art gallery. Promise.
Today’s entry is dedicated to birthday boy Joel and the gang at WordPress who have been wonderful hosts to this blog over the past couple of years. And a special shout out to Nick and Hanni in tech support!
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