Stories of pain and hilarity

Yesterday while I was in the car, I had an idea for the best blog post.  I was chuckling to myself as I thought about the different stories I could tell on the theme and at the moment, it actually did flit through my mind that I should probably take a moment to write some type of trigger down.  But, I didn't. To be honest with you, by the time I got back to the cabin, the entire thing was gone.  I did try to retrieve the memory at some point last night, thought that maybe if I just let it float around in my brain for awhile, it would return.  No such luck.

I wondered if it was about breaking my little toe on a piece of wood that I've known was there the other day.  Oh, the poor little toe.  I cursed, swore and cursed some more as I waited for the surging pain to pass.  The problem was that I was giggling like a fool at the same time.  Mom never wore shoes and spent many days of her life with black little toes - broken and bloodied because she'd run into things.  I've been pretty lucky, but when I smack that toe, I remember her messed up feet and chuckle.  (yup, I'm mean that way).

I am mean that way.  Unless you are in need of emergency care, hurting yourself in my presence isn't going to get you a lot of sympathy.  I've been known to have to turn away or walk into another room because the sight of a minor accident cracks me up.

A few years ago, when I was working at the church, Max called me.  He had called to tell me that he'd been exercising on our recumbent bike when the weld snapped on the seat.  Now, a recumbent bike sits low with your feet way out in front of you.  My first question was, "Are you alright?"  When his response was yes, then my imagination was given permission to see the entire event play out and I started laughing.  I'm pretty sure he was offended, but it's not my fault that he kept telling me the rest of the story.  When the back of the seat fell off, his torso snapped backwards, his head hit a short dresser that was there and gave it enough of a push, that a painted flowerpot on the dresser fell off and shattered on his head.  (here's the deal folks, I can't even type this story without howling with laughter!!!!)

I saw Three Stooges/slapstick comedy happening all over the place and laughed even harder!!!  Yah, that didn't win me any points.  And I think it scared my coworkers a little, too.  I guess I can be a little heartless.

The weirdest things have happened to me in my life and at some point, I suppose I've learned that if I'm laughing about it, at least I'm not crying.  While this may not seem appropriate to the rest of the world ... it works for me.

I still love telling the story (from my side, thank you very much) of my poor little brother when we were quite young.  It took him awhile to come into his intelligence.  He trusted me way too long.  In the parsonage in Morning Sun, Iowa, there was a strange planter on the main floor between the living room and dining room - made out of bricks.  Imagine sharp corners.  Ok ... it was either the planter or simply a doorsill, I don't remember exactly which.  But, for some reason that poor boy agreed to be the horse and allowed me to be the rider.  I assured him that I would tell him when to look up.  I did ... he cracked his forehead and received six stitches for his trouble.  Carol and I got to go to the bank president's house down the street and watch color television while he went to the emergency room.

But, I got mine.  After I had graduated from college, I moved home for a year, working at a hotel and teaching piano lessons.  Jim was still in high school and at some point was taking Tae-kwon-do.  Dad had a thick workout/wrestling mat in the basement for Jim to do his workouts - it was located just outside my bedroom.  One evening, Jim called to me, "Diane, I've been practicing something, but need another person.  You don't need to do anything.  I just need you to stand there."  Alright, I'm amenable.  I can do this.  I stood in the center of the mat and before I knew it, I was flat on my back looking up at the ceiling and at a brother, cackling with glee.  Was that enough for me?  Oh no. 

"Diane?  I screwed it up - you shouldn't have ended up on your back.  Let me try that again."  Oh, I'm so ashamed to admit that I truly am that stupid.  But, I stood up and discovered within moments that the ceiling still looked the same and Jim had that same hideous laughter. I picked myself up - left my dignity on the mat and went back in my room.

We come from a long line of tormentors.  Please be sure that you really want my help if you hurt yourself. You might have to put up with a little giggle or two, especially if you managed to hurt yourself in a rather entertaining manner!