Preparing for my trip to California #2: The Knee Knows

This is the day I prepare. Fun time merriment. I'll probably post the checklist I'll make tomorrow.


My knee isn't doing any better. It's number, but more wobbly. It's exactly like trying to walk on a leg that's fallen asleep. It keeps buckling and locking backwards and threatening to go sideways. It's still as stiff as a Jew's neck. (Jimmy Pinkerton will get that one.) As for my schedule, it's probably a bit ahead; the swelling is starting to spread up my leg a little bit, and it's beginning to have that shiny look about it and get really hard. I forecast pain and trouble sleeping by tonight, and noticeable bruising by tomorrow morning. I may cause everyone to miss the Sunday morning messages, what with driving me to the emergency room to get...ugh...lanced. I'll try to delay it as long as possible or drive myself, or just bring a scalpel.


At church last night- Wednesday the 13th of February, some jokepot (jokepot, crackpot, get it?) spilled coffee everywhere all over the carpet. There were at least 5 blotches- big blotches, the size of a deck of cards each...hmm...the house just shook again.


This is disturbing...I will report back.

OK, let's just say...it's best to ignore the shaking of the house. Being torn apart by a raging hell-beast is not fun.

Anyway, I'm going to bring some Kev's Mom Approved cleaning supplies next Wednesday and see if I can't get those stains up completely. I only managed to make them slightly less noticeable; good point is, you can't tell someone spilled coffee 5 times anymore.


I reported that Don Feldick is out sick. He almost caught pneumonia, and he's experiencing a bout with pyromaniacle tendencies (they both begin with 'p' and end with a vowel), so he thought it best to avoid the church building. Poor guy. We're all going through a sickness and injury period as we subconsciously try to avoid this conference and church in-general. Thanks to my messengering mediator, I can hopefully bear whatever I throw at myself.


Pastor Justice had me confirm that I would be going to California. "You still haven't given u-...ah...decided not to go, huh, Kev?" he asked. "Nope! I'm going to represent the church!" I said with stars in my eyes. "Well...have you...y'know...called to make sure you still have a room? I mean, anyone could have heard that your dad wasn't going and called and canceled...then you'd just have to not go. I mean...I could have even done that, you know...it's very plausible."


I bizarrely proceeded to defend that room as mine, and no one else can stay in there. "If someone needs to stay somewhere, there's assuredly a dumpster out back," I said. "Well...yeah, if anyone needs a bed, we'll find you one," Pastor Justice said. "...yeah, they throw those out all the time," I said.


I then took a tour of the Pastor's minivan. That thing's mad. It's the weirdest car I have ever seen. It's some sort of fusion of old, beaten-down 1930 Ford and a 2008 Expedition. I took him to the Pathfinder to see the back seats there so that he could get an idea of what I can bear as far as leg space goes. Poor guy heard me wrong...he thought I said "Let's take the pathfinder." On the short walk over there, I can only imagine what he was thinking. This fool, this fool, this fool, this fool, I'm not taking their car. How I do tell him this gently, how do I tell him this gently...


Here is a chart detailing how far I can bend my leg. Days 1-3 were fine, days 3-6 were a little worse, and day 7 practically makes me bedridden. I would class this in the "not fun" category.


Nevertheless, I'm going to make it to that conference even if I just have to lay in bed screaming for three days straight. "My God! What's the hideous moaning?!" they'll ask. Off to make the list.