You’re not Shuggy!

yukonBut you are absolutely welcome to use my Handy Dandy Planet Ann Arbor Garbage Cart anyway. Actually I didn’t say that to LofP when he rang my doorbell today. I said, “I’m so glad you are not a solicitor. I was ready to BITE!” And I did not mean “bite” in the sense of buying something I don’t need or want.

Once upon a time, we were expecting a visit from “Shuggy”, whose family lives around the corner and, as far as I know, has not gone by that nickname in many years. I have no memory of exactly what was going on at The Landfill that day but it seems like it was chaotic in a happy kind of way (YAG production? Maybe…). I swung open the door expecting Shuggy but it was *not* Shuggy, it was LofP from across the street. Instead of saying “hello”, my greeting was “You’re not Shuggy!” I am not anywhere near the so-called autism spectrum but my social skills obviously lack at times.

So, today he wanted to put something in my almost-empty garbage cart. Any time there’s room sir! Good neighbors. When we moved in here, LofP’s parents lived in that house and LofP was a single young guy with a motor-sickle. I don’t have an accurate timeline here but in the eight years between buying The Landfill and Mouse going to kindergarten, dad moved out, then died, mom began tottering around and was *moved* out (and died), and LofP got married, bought/inherited/Idunno the house, and had a child who is now a wonderful kindergarten teacher.

What did I say to the bone doc today when he asked how Titanium Pinky was? She is beautiful! And she is. She is not 100% functional yet but I’d give her 98%. Do I engage in any hard impact/extreme sports? Yes, he asked that. I said I was a hiker, kayaker, and CROSS-COUNTRY skier, in other words, no. Hiking and kayaking are no-brainers but I could see the wheels going around just a bit after he heard the word “ski”. He recovered quickly though and said something about when the snow flies, I should be good to go. And I will be and I am (these days) a pretty careful skier anyway, even XC. Strong in terms of endurance but not interested in too much treacherous downhill stuff. And then, my hands posed for some photooos, for teaching purposes. Apparently, my particular titanium screw is something new 🐸. I was honored to oblige.

BTW: “Bone doc?” Try “hand surgeon”. There are several places here that I could’ve accessed a hand surgeon to fix my pinky. I chose the one that was on my way to work. My hand surgeon (who I will not see again unless it’s at the “mall”) is working on starting a hand transplant program at the already world-reknowned university horsepittal here. That said, I am not gonna go on and on about big vs. small hoosegows and the differences between the docs at both. It is like comparing apples and oranges and papayas and durians and passion fruit. All I will say is that, if you have to deal with a Surprise Appendectomy up in the Yooperland, War Memorial is not the worst place to land and may even surpass the world class facilities available here on The Planet Ann Arbor. There was not much going on up at War Memorial that day so “we” got a *lot* of attention. And once he was out of surgery, I was cleared to go and deal with our hotel reservation (Ojibway!) and get his pain pills (Arfstroms) and I could walk to all of that except that I had to drive the Ninja to the hotel (3 blocks away) in order to get one vee-hickle down there and unload my personal luggage. And then drive the GG down there in the Frog Hopper, although he could’ve probably walked… … …

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