Thursday, May 24, 2007

Oamaru

It's almost been one week since I fell off my bike, and my arm is healing nicely, but not as quickly as I had hoped (maybe leading to the conclusion that it is indeed broken?). The bruising is pretty extensive all around my elbow, and I still have mobility issues - but there have been dramatic improvements in my ability to tie my shoelaces and pull up my pants after a pee. In order to speed up my healing, I've been taking it easy. I've managed to soak in a two-hour nap each day so far (I love naps, and should really think about putting that back into my normal schedule). Brian has been taking extra good care of me keeping me well fed, well rested, and keeps my spirits up with warm smiles and chocolate covered almond treats. We've managed to score a 'holiday membership' at the local public library, where we go every day to read on the comfy seats and get new novels when the old ones are done. The ladies behind the counter know us well, and are always happy to ask how my arm is doing. Today, I'm reading a funny book called Very Good, Jeeves! by P.G. Wodehouse. It's a bunch of short stories where the main character, Bertie Wooster, a rich schmuck in London, gets into ridiculous predicaments and is repeatedly and miraculously saved my his savvy butler. The book makes me think of my brother, Greg -- I'm not sure why that is, but I think he'd enjoy the read. Since my injured appendage isn't anywhere near being able to grip a bicycle handlebar anytime soon, we've decided to end our bike trip for now, and take the bus back to Nelson. Yeah, I know, sad news. But, I have to say, I'm excited to get back to things that I miss. For example, wearing a pair of pants (I don't have any full leg coverings while on the bike, with the exception of my thermal underwear, which isn't quite suitable for all occasions, as you would suspect). What else do I miss? Well, it will be nice to know where we will be sleeping every night for the next week (and the additional bonus that it will be a real bed and not a make-shift bed on the grounds of an elementary school); it will be nice to know that other hostelers will not take your food out of the fridge; it will be nice to have pots and pans in a kitchen to experiment with; it will be nice to have access to a multitude of condiments to make those cooking experiments more tasty; it will be nice to -- eek -- have our car. Man, I totally forgot that we have a car. That's fantastic! Hmm... and I bet one of the first things we'll do besides remedy all of the above is go and rent a few movies and snuggle up on a couch and eat popcorn, just the two of us. Ahhh, this is going to be wonderful. And when my arm is healed, we'll have to get back on the bikes and do a few smaller trips from Nelson north and south to finish what we started.... That will be great.

5 Comments:

At 9:43 p.m., May 24, 2007, Anonymous Anonymous said...

So am I Bertie or the Butler? I like to get into trouble and my Butler does get me out of it. That's what Butlers are for. Or am I the Butler? I do feed and water the cat. And from time to time I clean up her unmentionables.

Greg

 
At 10:30 p.m., May 24, 2007, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Butlers are for blaming. As in, "The Butler did it!!" And I'm sure Dee and Dave blamed tonnes of stuff on you when you were all wee whippersnappers, (you know, being the middle Montie and such-like). And since you do feed and water Evo (won't mention her unmentionables) I think the answer is obvious. Butler or bust.

 
At 10:31 p.m., May 24, 2007, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Oops, I didn't mean to be THAT anonymous. That last comment was me. Yeah. Sarah.

 
At 12:23 p.m., May 25, 2007, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I like busts.

G

 
At 7:19 p.m., May 28, 2007, Blogger Dee said...

Will you two cut it out? or, "Cool it, Charlie Brown!" (as Brian says).

Well, actually, I kind of like the banter going on between my best friend and my brother on my blog. It makes me feel loved in some twice-removed way.

And, I think G's the Butler too, no matter how much he likes busts.

 

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