Part 113 Aragorn falls off the cliff


Sunday morning is equally as beautiful as the day before. We sing an excerpt from Haydn’s “Creation” (“Awake the Harps”), which I struggle through as a result of all my missed practices this spring (I will be sitting out the upcoming seasonal concert for that reason). Our family enjoys an afternoon out at the pool. It feels strange trying to swim with my left hand fingers splayed out from the accident; I still am happier than I was this time last year, when I was barely edging into the pool. I fix manicotti with cream sauce later at home. It tastes good, and I am able to eat a nice bit.

I relax after the first work day of the new week with a glass of port. Liquor still tastes strange to me, although this is working alright. I am listening to 80s rock on TV. Apparently I am drifting into a possible 80s kick. A sour note today – my urologist’s nurse called today to inform me that I do have kidney stone(s). It (they?) is probably lodged, and the nurse feels that if it were of great concern the doctor would have me come in today. Since I am no novice to kidney stones and have ridden them out in their fury (or given up and gone to the hospital for blasting), I decide I have bigger life concerns at present, so the stone can wait.

I cruise to work the following morning listening to the Psychedelic Furs, proof that the new musical kick is settling in. I’m not there too long before the entire student body is inconvenienced by another prank bomb threat – this time, like others, someone has written on the bathroom window. (one clue, the person is not very smart, spelling the word “bom”). Of course, better a prank by a bad speller than a reality. The announcements later on remind the students that there are sizable rewards for tips to locate the guilty parties, and a trip up the river for those caught.

Okay. It’s not amusing anymore. The second successive day bomb threat is wearing thin. You know it’s a problem when even the students are grumbling about how they would rather be in class than walking in a herd to go sit in the bleachers of the football stadium. At lunch I discover that for the first time since the stent was removed I have some difficulty swallowing my food. To me the enchilada seems to have the density of a burrito. I leave work early that day to sit at home with Brookie, who is sick again. But I know what she wants that will make her feel better. Another viewing of “Lord of the Rings”. She opts for “The TwoTowers”, specifically the segment where the character Legolas greets the hero, Aragorn, after the latter has crawled back from a tumble off a cliff. Legolas wisecracks, “you look terrible”, a remark that makes Brooke giggle. (She will ask in future days for me to start the disc precisely at this place “where Aragorn falls off the cliff”, just to laugh again).