Fair enough.

Some History:

This is me at 17... fit, athletic. My body did whatever I asked it to do.

I won a few races. Life was good. (Life is still good. It's just not 17 good)

This handsome man is my dad. My adorable sister Tatiana is on the right.

This is a picture of my dad when I was in high school. In this shot he's just about the same age I am now.

Back when I was an obstreperous teenager, one of my favorite pastimes was mocking my parents. In particular, my dad. Dad has a good sense of humor so he could take it. Besides... there was just so much good material! I am a kidder, I kid (said in a cheesy French accent)


More History:

Back in the day, we had a Zenith corner console TV in our family room. It had a remote control and a vertical row of shiny silver buttons down the right side of the screen for manually changing the channel, volume, etc.

More often than not, when you entered our family room you'd find Dad laying on the ground in front of the TV. Feet close to the screen, head away. I think there were a few reasons for this.

1. Dad worked hard and needed some down time.
2. Dad had some lower back problems and it felt good to lay flat.
3. Sometimes he couldn't find the remote and laying close that
way he could change the channel.

Dad was gifted in the art of channel surfing using only the big toe. The toe. It is legend to this day.

We teased Dad a lot about 'the toe'.

The real entertainment happened only infrequently. The whole fam would be enjoying a show (or trying to enjoy a show but unable to do so because 'the toe' was surfing) and without warning Dad would call out, "OH! OH!" and leap vertically off the ground from a completely supine position, hopping to the wall and clutching at his calf.

Cramp. Charley Horse. Either way... good laughs. Me as egocentric teenager lacking empathy? Pretty much.


Fast Forward approximately 27 years (ouch):

I worked a graveyard shift last night. A very pleasant night as these things go. Came home, hugged Rich hello and goodbye, then got Miss Emily off to school. Sarah had already left by the time I got home at 8 am. I sat down, had breakfast, watched some news and unwound for a while until I hit the wall. That's when I happily climbed into bed and fell asleep. Sound asleep.

One and a half hours of wonderful, much needed, deep sleep.

At the one and a half hour mark, I awoke in confusion and pain. "OH! OH!!" In my half asleep state I'm hitting my calf, pinching my upper lip (I heard that helps once upon a time) and pulling on my big toe (ironic, no?) trying to get my calf to unclench. I finally woke up enough (it was the screaming that did it) to hobble out of bed and force my foot flat on the ground to stretch out my calf. I'm ready to disown my left gastrocnemius. Traitor.

It's been three hours since I awoke to the above described terror. Unable to go back to sleep I'm now further sleep deprived and limping because of the residual pain in my calf.

Sorry Dad. Really. Sorry. I love you.