I'm no Moon Knight

In Moon Knight #35 from 1984, Moon Knight fights the Fly. He loses ... badly, and winds up in a wheelchair.

While in the chair, one of his alter egos sponsors ballet performances, which brings him into contact with a crazy mutant who is killing members of the troupe. She kills the male lead while Moon Knight as Steven Grant is watching.

When the baddie enters, MK as SG says to his girlfriend something like "You cover me, Marlene, and I'll ... " Then he remembers he is in a chair and says "... sit here helpless."*

I was thinking about this awesome comic on my trike ride today because at the beginning of the ride I too got to sit helpless and watch a little girl lose control of her scooter and crash.

It was where the bike trail splits near Broad Street. She was on the bridge trail. I was on the lower trail just turning around.

No one else saw her and I was trying to figure out how to turn around and get to her. And then what I had no idea. Fortunately, the mom came into view then, and it turned out to be someone I know.

The girl was OK, so I guess it turned out all right except that feeling of helplessness that doesn't go away. If I were Moon Knight, I could will myself out of my chair (a scene that still gives me shivers even though it doesn't work that way for normal people, just avatars of Egyptian god Khonshu. Hmmm, maybe I need to change religions)


* I paraphrased the comic because while I could find it in five minutes if the comic boxes were accessible, no one else could. It's in the comics I reread a lot box along with the reboots of Green Arrow, Green Lantern, Daredevil, etc.

Good with a side of crappy

Christmas, as always, brings awesomeness and more than a little crappy:

Probably Claren's last church visit was Tuesday, not that she is dying but you can't bring retired dogs to church. That made me feel bad, but if I think like that, she'll have a lot of lasts.

She, of course, entranced nearby kids at church. One just laid down a few feet away and stared at her.

The kids I live with were also entranced, not by Claren but by Christmas. Fun to be around that. I think their parents get caught up, too, in making everything perfect for their kids, which makes me sad that I don't have that.

Mass was also totally unintelligible. In crowds, a low-level buzz accompanies everything, and while I can hear people talking, understanding the words is impossible. Usually, if they are sequences I have known since childhood, I can follow them. The Church, though, changed a bunch of prayers a few years ago, as far as I can tell, to make us all believe that we are all sinful jerks. The upshot is I get lost.

Christmas was fun, but it reminds me of my many problems -- I wasn't asked to try my luck at Basket Case. And let's be clear: that was probably a good thing because if I was, I'd probably be pointing out how I felt bad having failed at Basket Case.

And through it all, I am so tired.

What's next?

Good news, the lung nodules are nothing to worry about.

I had a test today to compare the nodules to six months ago to see if they had grown. I was a little disappointed because they said the results weren't due till next week. i was actually more worried after I had the test but not the results.

So I called my awesome doctor and left her a message explaining the situation.

And at the end of the day, she called back to say the nodules were unchanged and because they were so small and because I am a low risk for lung cancer, we don't have to follow them anymore.  Yeah.

Now I can worry about whether to get Botox. Really.

Saving my dignity

I am writing this even though I am pretty sure my sister will never talk to me again. I have two other sisters, though.

I love my brother-in-law. I know he would do anything for me. I am equally sure he'd make fun of whatever embarrassing situation needed his help. But not until it was taken care of.

But I just could not ask him to help me change my clothes after a regrettable incident.

Instead, I asked him to bring me some clean clothes and changed myself.

It took a lot longer, but I maintained my dignity -- well at least as much as a 42-year-old wearing superhero sleeping pants ever has.

Day grinder

When I was at the dentist the other day, the hygienist suggested I get a mouth-guard because she could see I grind my teeth. And I fully admit it. I am, as the dentist later said, a "grinder."

The thing is while I know I grind my teeth,  I am 100% sure night is not the problem.

I grind my teeth when I fell or when I bang my foot into my chair.

I grind my teeth when works goes poorly or when my computer fails.

I grind my teeth when I think about Friday when I have a scan to see if the nodules on my lungs are anything.

Night might be the one time my jaw relaxes.