Klutzes* of the world, uni–WHAM**
I know that a lot of blog readers don’t bother with the comments, but you really should have a scan through the Klutz Klub posts, which are mostly rather–ahem!–agonisingly amusing, as well as demonstrating that there is a vast comedic talent out there that the producers of TV sitcoms should try harder to lure or grapple into their dominion.
I am also reminded that my daily life is fraught with klutzeries, and as only one example, I have no idea why or how the hellhounds and I are surviving each other, but we all seem mostly fairly happy and content DESPITE, for example, Chaos’ favourite game of not merely biting all the usually somewhat out of reach bits of me that he can chomp on easily if he comes down the stairs behind me, but getting between my legs to do it.*** I’ve tried to point out to him that he can actually reach more bits if he stays behind me and that getting between my legs is counterproductive but I think he gets carried away in the heat of the moment.† And these are the cottage’s steep narrow 260° stairs where you want to be hanging onto the railing anyway because most of them are triangular.†† Darkness will sometimes join in this frolic, but his more usual ploy is to go downstairs in front and then stop suddenly just when the havoc behind him is reaching its crescendo. One of the problems with the Hellgoddess persona is that since I’ve never (yet) failed to stop them when they do their rocket-launcher trick††† they think I’m proof against their wildest hurtles and caroms–a false assumption I’m at some pains‡ to prevent them finding out is false.
Then there is the going up the stairs with hellhounds ritual, which involves their tearing up in front of me so they can meet me at the top and investigate anything I may be carrying before it rises out of reach. I have the uneasy feeling that they’d drink tea if they had the chance; I’m usually preoccupied with keeping it off the carpet.
But hellhounds are far from the only regular hazard of my existence. Take, for example, the cottage attic. It’s an old house, and what brace the roof are two large crossbeams. None of this wussy overhead arch stuff. No, we have here a piece of living, functioning, splintery history . . . and I have the dented skull to prove it. They move around, you know: the crossbeams. Wherever you are, they stealthily follow you, the better to be directly overhead when you straighten up. Because of course while you’re in the attic you stay in your protective crouch, and scuttle around with your eyes on the floor because human necks aren’t long enough for the double curve that would allow you to watch overhead and catch sight of the beams nefariously gliding toward you. And you will at some point forget that you’re supposed to stay bent over, or perhaps you lose track of precisely how bent, or unbent, you are, because you have your arms full of boxes–this is an attic, after all–and FWHACK.
Still on the attic theme . . . there are the attic stairs. I believe I have discussed the daily adventure of the attic stairs before. They are actually deeply clever and one of my favourite things about my miniaturised (and crowded) life . . . but they do occupy about half the space of a hall so small it doesn’t have halves.‡‡ And furthermore it’s sort of the centre half. Entry into the attic is by the standard hatch arrangement‡‡‡ and the stairs are a kind of half-ladder half-stair that hook below the hatch–or can be removed and hung on the wall, except I never do because I’m in the attic way too often.§ So instead I’m tripping over the bottom of the stair . . . when I’m not tripping over a hellhound.§§ This is particularly acute in the middle of the night when I’m reeling toward the bathroom for a pee . . . because that bottom stair sticks out beyond the edge of the doorway into the bathroom§§§.
And, speaking of the bedroom, it’s a rare occasion that I manage to change the sheets on the bed without cracking myself smartly on one of the bedposts. Four-posters are glorious and romantic¤ and all that kind of thing but they’re also dangerous. The posts don’t even have to move around, like the attic crossbeams: there are just so many of them, there’s always one handy if you want to brain yourself. Sigh.
. . . Some other day I’ll tell you about not quite pulling the tallboy over on myself. That was back at the old house, however, when I didn’t have bottles of champagne, cider and perry as well as my old glass cake stand¤¤ and the vase containing my wedding bouquet ¤¤¤ standing on it. What a good thing I learned how easy it would be to pull over before I kept large heavy breakable things on top of it. . . .
* * *
* I want this to be klutzim, but according to Encarta the plural is klutzes. Yes, well, how full of clueless goyim is Encarta?
** Everyone knows the best of these, yes?: Dyslexics of the world, untie! This still makes me giggle after decades of seeing it written on a variety of public walls.
*** As I recall, I posted about this more extensively on one of the earlier occasions when klutzhood was brought up. Klutzhood, I feel, includes having hellhounds as a defining characteristic. There are other means to this ignoble end, but Possession of Hellhounds is a more or less instant entrée. They exist to make you look ridiculous. Some of us didn’t really need the help.
† Also, the insides of thighs are good for biting–the sound effects are superb.^ I knew they’re–ahem!–good for biting in other contexts, but dog between legs coming down stairs was a new one.
^ My great drawback as a responsible dog owner is that I find all this funny.
†† Very good practise for climbing up and down ancient bell tower stairs however.
††† Which is not the same thing as saying they’ve never had me over. I just go over still frantically holding on to their leads. What is that scene in RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK when Harrison Ford is being dragged along behind a truck on his belly? Like that only less photogenic.
‡ sic
‡‡ I have a somewhat liberal approach to the laws of space and matter.
‡‡‡ Further great scope for klutzing
§ Hey, my All Stars live in the attic.
§§ It’s amazing the upstairs hall carpet isn’t dappled with tea-stains. I must spill down my black jeans or over the hellhounds more often than I realise. Or maybe terra cotta/burnt orange carpet was a good choice for hiding tea stains. It’s not as though I don’t get down on my hands and knees and blot frenziedly.
§§§ It’s also amazing I have any feet left.
¤ As well as being high enough off the floor–as previously blogged, book space being kind of a central obsession–to shove boxes of books and a vacuum cleaner under. The vacuum cleaner hose also tends to kind of snake out and have a go at ankles passing by.
¤¤ Ahem. It now lives in the kitchen. It still has clothes in it, but it lives in the kitchen.
¤¤¤ Yup. Sic.
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Yes, well, how full of clueless goyim is Encarta?
LOL–oy, gevalt! :)
That’s what I thought. :)
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****** because you have your arms full of boxes–this is an attic, after all–and FWHACK.
It might almost be a rule of klutzhood that things happen on stairs, at a height, when carrying (lots of) things, when the results cause embarrassment and or cost quite a lot… Pain can also be involved in varying but usually acute amounts…
Yes, I missed a step going down the short flight into the courtyard below our apartment earlier… with my arms full of a Very Big bin of paper for the recycling yard. I let out a yelp and dropped the bin–paper’s not breakable, you know–and managed to catch myself, though my toes got a bit scraped up and I wrenched a few muscles. Amazingly, I didn’t even break the skin. I must be losing my touch. ;)
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I must be losing my touch. ;)
********* A very good touch to lose!!! :)
Wow. It’s kind of amazing your pretty pictures the other day weren’t all covered with *bruises*. Golly!
It’s amazing what kind of things we put up with for the other mammals in our lives. When we had carpet in the ferret room (baaaad combination), I could run across it when I caught sight of someone squatting not in the litter box. Now we have that pretty laminate floor that looks and feels like wood, and I end up sliding part of the way, and occasionally pulling muscles to keep from falling into the splits when I finally make it there. I’ll admit, it’s faster to slide across, but… (This would probably work out better if I didn’t wear socks, but I think we’ve had the air on my feet! discussion before. Socks only come off when it’s too hot and my brain is going to boil.)
Yes, but bare floor is EASILY TO CLEAN. She says feelingly. This is why, when I go out by myself, hellhounds are locked up in the KITCHEN with the BARE FLOOR.
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This would probably work out better if I didn’t wear socks, but I think we’ve had the air on my feet! discussion before. Socks only come off when it’s too hot and my brain is going to boil.)
What about those little rubber anti-slip pads on socks? Can’t you find a source to apply them to your own wonderfully made socks? So you would be a non-skid Jodi. We really don’t want you down on skid row…
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Can’t you find a source to apply them to your own wonderfully made socks?
I don’t know! I’ve never looked into it.
Maybe I should. :D
Thank you, that was a giggle. An ouch, ooh, that sounds painful, eeek, yipes, ooh no! giggle, but a giggle and a grin nonetheless. You should get shares in an arnica producer. Between you and us, they’ll have a roaring business.
Klutzim is a FAR superior plural. Ignore Encarta.
Make your own rules. Pegasoi and klutzim. Marvelous.
–Julia
:) Pegasi, in my world, however. But klutzim–yaay. :)
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Yes, that is what I thought. After all, the Latin noun declines -us, -i, -o, -um, -o [singular] ****-I***, -um, -ibus, -es, -ibus [plural]. So nominative plural of pegasUS ought to be pegasI
But my Latin teacher in high school always insisted on pegasoi. Maybe the Greek influence on the word makes it decline differently?
Either way, however one chooses to pluralize them, [and pegasuses is out.] they are pretty nifty. Both the klutzim and the pegasi/-oi.
:)
–Julia
Yes, well, we’re about to MAKE klutzim real. :) And ‘pegasoi’ is just not *beautiful.* ‘Pegasi’ sounds so much better to my ear.
“‘pegasoi’ is just not *beautiful.* ‘Pegasi’ sounds so much better to my ear.”
allow me, as a native Greek speaker to intrude: the dipthong -oi in Greek is pronounced -i and given that Pegasus is from a Greek myth and is a Greek name, why would Latin declensions have anything to do with it?
That said, oh long suffering Robin (kokkinolaimis or red-neck in Greek – not that I would dream of calling you a red-neck :)) I actually had an evening off and walked home the long way, i.e. through the shops. And there, in a window I spotted them. Have you seen them? The converse sneakers with Pegasoi or winged horses on them. Not Chucks but definitely all-stars?
Seen ‘em? Want ‘em? I just thought I would mention them. There is no rule that says no internet shopping with tummy bugs.
There, hope you feel better soon.
Oh dear. I’m oozing toward an early crash tonight but I’ll look tomorrow. . . .
*nods head*
True, true.
Well then. We are already disagreeing with Encarta. We can change what is at least my Magistra’s impression of the Greco-Latin pluralized form of the marvelous creature Pegasus.
Pegasi [as in peg-a- sigh/s-eye, or peg-a-sea/see?]
Perfect.
Let a pronouncement be made:
Henceforth, it shall be the proper plural. Especially if it was previously. But even if it wasn’t, pegasoi is now displaced, dethroned, by the much improved pegasi.
There. Now it is *official*
:)
Hugs.
*******FEEL BETTER!!!!!!!!!!!**************
–Julia
“or peg-a-sea”
please!
(should I say that in Greek it’s pig-a-sea?) no, I can’t entirely overturn centuries of English miss-pronounciation.
Shakes head. Doesn’t even want to enter discussions of variety of ways and manners and schools of pronouncing Ancient Greek. *grumbles*
Okay, I’m losing track. I am ignorantly calling it ‘pegasi’ and pronouncing it ‘pegasiiii’, a long ‘i’, like ‘eye’. Because that looks and sounds nice to me.
Op. Just saw Susan from Athens’ post. Which wasn’t there when I posted yesterday. So I wasn’t disagreeing with you, I was agreeing with Robin.
And we are both right. Sort of.
Because it IS spelled the way I thought, but pronounced as Robin prefers.
Everyone wins! Hooray!
p.s. and that was dumb. I should have thought to ask you, oh Susan FROM ATHENS.
ATHENS. Duh.
*shakes head at own stupidity sometimes*
Oh well.
Goodnight, then!
–Julia
Chaos’ favourite game …… getting between my legs to do it.
::sighs feelingly::
Yeah. With Belle it is sheer impatience. I am opening the gate and SHE wants to go through it first. Doesn’t matter if my legs or the horse’s legs are in the way. It’s a good way end up on your face. (Does that make her a klutz enabler ??) She is gradually learning some manners on this issue but it pays to be vigiliant!!
Procrastinators unite!
…Tomorrow.
…Next week looks like better weather ….. ;)
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Today (well, yesterday for most of you when you see this) is/was the FIRST DAY OF AUTUMN (or fall, if you prefer) and NATIONAL BUTTERSCOTCH DAY!
Now if that doesn’t inspire you to eat something sweet, I don’t know what will.
Happy Autumn as I experience 85+ degree weather in south Florida. Humph
† Also, the insides of thighs are good for biting–the sound effects are superb.^ I knew they’re–ahem!–good for biting in other contexts, but dog between legs coming down stairs was a new one.
see above comment of yours
… if ever there was any doubt that writers (namely R.M) are also full-blooded humans
you had me laughing with this comment!!
thanks for brightening my day.
i still am waiting for my copy of Chalice to be delivered… wait wait wait,, too longgggg
A
This reminds me that I need to buy more arnica.
I confess that I was ever so skeptical when I picked it up at the health shop. But it’s been AMAZINGLY effective.
:)
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I dreamed last night that I had fallen down, and hellhound puppies were licking my face.
Klutzim, for sure. If use it enough, then it has to wind up in the dictionary since modern dictionaries reflect usage.
Klutzim, for sure. If use it enough, then it has to wind up in the dictionary since modern dictionaries reflect usage.
********** OKAY. We’re going for this NOW. I will post. . . .
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***there is a vast comedic talent out there that the producers of TV sitcoms should try harder to lure or grapple into their dominion.***
Now are you talking about our talent for writing or our talent for pratfalls? LOL!
Talent for user name please! :)
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That’s weird- I’ve never had a comment post as anonymous by accident before. But, sorry, that was me, Jeanine of Florida.
Or, should I say “that was I, …. Jeanine of Florida?” (said with pregnant pause, moustache twirling, and a nicely dramatic flourish of cloak in the manner of an Errol Flynn swashbuckler).
Whatever.
Mea culpa. ; )
*****Then there is the going up the stairs with hellhounds ritual, which involves their tearing up in front of me so they can meet me at the top and investigate anything I may be carrying before it rises out of reach.*****
(*laugh!*) I know that one! It allowed me to perfect the fierce scowl, the deep bellow, and the protective body language!
Judith
And NONE OF IT WORKED! :)
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I concur about klutzim – it’s just better.
And, do I have stories about dogs on staircases! It doesn’t help that the people we bought the house from had built it themselves and they were very short people* and so the steps are very tall and there’s not much room on them to put your feet in the first place. Add the two mutts into the equation – Toby usually likes to be greeted nose-to-nose upon my succesfully reaching the top and will whine if I deny him this. He also tries to make sure to catch me if I am carrying food, the little punk. Bubba is just old and doesn’t want to go to the trouble of climbing up or down until he’s sure that that’s the direction you mean to be going and so will stop and look at you every few steps and if you attempt to step over or around him he will rush down another few steps and then stop again… If you precede him up the stairs he makes no delay about pushing past you – he must make sure that it is safe** upstairs before he can allow his people up there!
*which reminds me of the story of my 6’4″ brother standing up in Mom and Dad’s room once and shattering the globe of the ceiling fan with his head. Because everything in this house is a bit too short. I used to have to stoop to take a shower because they built shelves above the shower such that at 5’7″ it was difficult to stand upright in the shower.
**He also corrals the cats to the porch whenever we drive up to make sure everyone is safe.
I am sure Im going to be found dead, lying with my head crunched up against something nasty and concrete, in a pool of blood!
Why you ask? Because I have two birmans who clearly are HellCats and related to your two. Their favourite trick is to zoom out at lightspeed while I am walking down the stairs and magically appear under my descending foot as I put it down.
Preferably while I am carrying a large pile of cardboard boxes or washing or something obscuring my front view and cant see the cat thats just waiting to jump out from under my foot with a wail of complaint, totally ruining my balance and sending me tumbling.
I have been lucky mainly because there are only 3 steps from the house to the driveway, and I seem to end up crashing left and smashing up against the side of the house. But they have the ability to do it while on the flat as well.
Speaking of nibbling on legs, Taz is very fond of grabbing my trailing leg as I step into the bath for a shower and biting fondly on that on the way past.
Whats with that?
****Then there is the going up the stairs with hellhounds ritual, which involves their tearing up in front of me so they can meet me at the top and investigate anything I may be carrying before it rises out of reach.****
My Danes play any number of life-threatening games (life-threatening to ME if not to them), and one of them is a game I call Stair Death, a version of King of the Castle. Generally they play this game with each other, but sometimes a two-footed person is the chosen victim. The two-footed person can’t ever win, since she can’t beat the dog to the top of the stairs. If she can avoid being pushed over backward, the game is a draw.
****And these are the cottage’s steep narrow 260° stairs where you want to be hanging onto the railing anyway because most of them are triangular.****
Arte they triangular because this is a spiral stair or because they are stuck into a corner to save space?
It’s much too late because I was distracted into reading through ALL the Klutz Klub entries. And I have to get up early to go to puppy class. Evil EVIL influences on this blog . . . :)
Arte they triangular because this is a spiral stair or because they are stuck into a corner to save space?
******** BOTH. They are small and narrow and the 260 degrees are very TIGHT.
It’s much too late because I was distracted into reading through ALL the Klutz Klub entries. And I have to get up early to go to puppy class. Evil EVIL influences on this blog . . . :)
********* Thank you thank you!!! :)
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****Evil EVIL influences on this blog . . . :)
********* Thank you thank you!!! :) ****
Yes, I thought you’d like that . . . :)
At least hellhounds are fairly slim. A lab going between your legs – at least my legs – will dump you on your arse every time. And did you know a beagle can climb? It hooks in its claws and climb like a cat.
There was a great video on YouTube of a beagle escape artist….
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::rummages through internet history::
Here it is!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4-3EyMPzMoo
Gods, how did whoever STAND there and WATCH? I’d've been raging over there to hold out my arms and give her something to jump into!!!
Gods, how did whoever STAND there and WATCH?
I suspect they were wondering how this dog was escaping and set up a video camera (unmanned).
Verrrrrry sneaky! LOL
Ah. So she was doing it regularly? Because she obviously did NOT want to jump down . . . and I DIDN’T WANT HER TO.
Oh yes! You should do a search on YouTube for the escaping beagle puppy…
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“** Everyone knows the best of these, yes?: Dyslexics of the world, untie! This still makes me giggle after decades of seeing it written on a variety of public walls.”
There was a cartoon in Punch, many years ago, that I’ve always remembered. The scene was of an inoffensive middle aged man turning sadly away from a front door that had obviously just been shut in his face. He had the usual charity-collectors’ tray round his neck and was looking towards his female companion – who was in turn looking at the sign he’d printed on the front of his collecting tray – DAILYSEX – and saying “Perhaps I could re-write your sign for you, Mr Ponsonby?”.
:)
LOL!
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****. . Some other day I’ll tell you about not quite pulling the tallboy over on myself.
Do tell!!
Although I’m still fairly muddled over the house-change… you have too many houses/moves for me to keep up with. You should do a post for the more mentally challenged of us concerning the housing situations.
Who listens to Encarta anyway?
The old/big house is just that. And that’s what we moved *from.* The rest are all little, and recent. And there’s three of them at present count. :)
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>>>My great drawback as a responsible dog owner is that I find all this funny.
Yipes, I hope those are gentle bites! Tho’ I’m sure I’d laugh too.
In the first flush of having a smart dog (all previous dogs were on the not-so-bright side of the spectrum) I taught Hobbes first to run through my legs when I got home (duh!) and then to take off my hat, mittens and socks (double duh!). It seemed like a good idea at the time… and yes, he does try to “help” both company and strangers on the sidewalk remove their outerwear…of course I restrain him, I’m not a jerk.
*whispers* But I still think it’s funny.
LOL! It *is* funny!!!
This is one of the great things about having two of them–they’re very soft-mouthed from having grown up biting each OTHER. I’ve trained puppies to be soft-mouthed by ‘crying’ when they bite too hard, but it’s a lot EASIER if another puppy does it!!!
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****I taught Hobbes first to run through my legs when I got home****
What kind of dog is Hobbes? Hopefully not too BIG . . .
****This is one of the great things about having two of them–they’re very soft-mouthed from having grown up biting each OTHER.****
Very true. I had a singleton puppy who was very mouthy, and yelping (on my part) or squirting lemon juice down her throat was not terribly helpful. (She was an alpha girl, too, so did not readily Accept Correction, as they used to say on grade school report cards.) My current Alpha Bitch had brothers and sisters, so even though she’s a snot, she’s not toothy about it.
I think yelping/crying works pretty well, it’s just so BORING. You have to do it for MONTHS. EVERY TIME.
I have a friend whose lab, Duke, loves to take her purse when she comes home and he’ll carry it up the stairs and put it on her bed for her. Whenever I come in carrying a purse, Duke politely asks me* for it and then walks around the kitchen a few times trying to figure out where to put it before regretfully giving it back to me. It was so funny the first time he asked me for mine, I didn’t know what he was going to do with it and he didn’t either. He’s still not sure what to do with it, but it’s ritual now….
* he asks by putting his nose/mouth gently on the purse, and on the strap if he can reach it. He carries the strap in his mouth.
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Gah. I keep trying to post, and it doesn’t.
So, two more recent examples than the one I’ve typed in twice:
Yesterday evening, while getting out a couple of my plastic craft organizers full of beads, I knocked over a third. Which opened. They’re all picked up now (I think; I may be finding small bits of aventurine months from now), but there’s at least a half hour of sorting before they’re organized again. Gah.
And then this morning, I was getting something out of the fridge, and knocked over, and out of the fridge, the half-can of kitty gooshy food from earlier this morning. Note that she likes the canned food of the “with gravy” type. Several minutes of cleanup later…
The fun never stops. *wry*