The Manx Den

There’s somethin’ funky in the air – I keep sneezin’! I probably just need to vacumn or something like that.
… Yes, I’m still alive! I just posted a lil’ sketch (attached here for all you wunnerful pervs) an’ it’s prolly gonna see a little coloring.
Hmm.. What’s happened recently? Lots!
That accursed external fixator (wikipedia it.) came off in the middle of August. I was in Odense with hubby and we stopped by the hospital to get some transport money back (I go up to Aarhus every six months and pay the train ticket), and decided to stop off in the office to ask why I hadn’t been contacted about removing the fixator. They took it pretty darmmed serious, because the next day they called me in to get it off!
*Snerk* I went into the office with my backpack jus’ full of stuffs, because I thought they were gonna sedate me or have me over the night. Nope! The doc had me lay down on the exam table then and there, pulled up a box o’ hardware (tools man, tools!) and started unscrewing m. When he got to the pin down at my elbow that was harassing me I started HOWLIN’.. Gah.. It lasted about 5 teary minutes. The pins on the upper arm were no prouble – they just felt like this really weird pulling sensation, and then they were out. I think it’s just painful when you already have a pin coming loose and irritating all the nerves around the bone.
After that blasted thing was gone I was scot-free. No pain, no ache, no nothing – ‘cept some shock. XD I came home on the train and everything, but slept nearly 17 hours to get my brain free of all that stuff.

What’s doubly better is that hubby was no longer treating me with kid gloves. It took him a while to get used to the idea that touching my arm wasn’t gonna make me howl in agony, and I even started getting hugs again! Wheee!
An I got sehks, man, sehks! Sorta. < .< ... >.> …. We had a pretty good day out in Odense poking around in the mall. Hubby woke up one morning feeling like he couldn’t breathe. He’s got a dust allergy, and there’s lotsa carpeting down in our living room. We hadn’t been able to vacumn properly for two/three weeks because of being unable to find a vacumn-cleaner bag (ANYWHERE), and he finally got fed up. (‘I’m gonna croak if we don’t get that bag NOW!’) So we went out on the next train, all impromptu like, and went hunting all over the walking street, the supermarket, the mall, the local superstores.. None of those freakin’ bags, ANYWHERE! .. So we went to the store where we bought the thing…
Figures. We bought six bags and some filters, then went out for lunch. Hubbo was in a pretty bad mood that morning, but he was all cuddles and floaty-hearts an’ purrs on the way back home. Heeee.. <3

Last tuesday was a hoot. Mike’s grandma finally croaked at a lovely senile old age of 94, and so we took the train out to Nørre Aaby (north stream town, they’re so creative around here!) for the funeral. The church was beautiful – they built it up on a decently high hill, and we’re talking about a 14th century building, made outta stone and the walls all whitewashed and stuff. I loved it. None of this overguilded catholic creepy crap. I’ve been in so many cathedrals and crypts loaded with gold an’ idols and junk that it gives me the heebie-jeebies.
It was really funky though, because they had some read decorative woodcarvings about the pastor’s pulpit and the baptisim stand. I felt like I was back in an 19th century carnival, on one of those old merry-go-round things. You know how they can make the human face real well, but make it come out all deformed and square and stuff, and paint it? Yeah – tons of those. Cherubim staring out at you from all corners, giving you creepy retarded old-person stares. Most of all entertaining to me was a representation of a preggers Mary on the handrail to the pulpit. Her headress was the knob of the handrail, and her face was a bit distorted horizontally. Looked okay, but down below she had boobs! And not clothed boobs, no – preggy, slightly droopy woman-boobs! Unclothed! With nips! In a church!
Heh.. Well.. ot was family we were burying, so of course there were tears. Hubby got asked to help as a pallbearer, because he looks all hefty and strong and young and stuff (trust me, he’s not. His wrists are all worn out for using a mouse for years on end, and he did his back in last time we moved. Poor bugger needs to loose 40 kilos.), and so he helped carry the casket down the hill, up the hill, and to the grave.
Now when they arrange a burial in Denmark, they dig out the grave, hide the dirt somewhere, and line the grave with pine boughs so it’s all nice and pretty, then put metal tracks on either side of the grave so the pallbearers have traction and can see where to put their feet. But Mike’s uncle, just opposite hubby (Yes, hubby is called Mike), didn’t see where to step (he’s got the same hereditary bad eyesight that boys in Mike’s family gets), he slipped and went foot-first into the grave. First he slipped and hit the opposing wall, then went down all together and started howling. Frightful! Almost all of us just stood around, shocked, but one of the funeral arrangers had his wits about him and hopped down to help out the poor ol’ man.
Now he did get all bruised up and stuff – he’s not a young man, but he was deathly affraid of that great awful coffin coming down on top of him! No such thing, hubby grabbed the handle really quickly and pulled the arrangement off to the side, along with the help of the other four. After about 5 mins they came running from the church with a ladder, and helped the poor geezer out of the pit. I carried over one of the casket-benches (they use little stands to give the pallbearers a rest along the walk to the grave) for uncle, and the funeral went on.
It’d be lovely if that were the end of the story, but no, we had a reception to go to. It was nice to get sandwiches and banter with the family, but this side of the family were all half smokestacks. And didn’t have the presance of mind to step out onto the pation. No.. all the REST of us did. Frequently.
After folk started siphoning off I was pretty tired – likewise Mike and his mom, but we got begged to stay and choose a few momentos from grandma’s apartment. We were already on the three hour mark of being out there, but how could we refuse? The apartment had to be emptied (Old persons’ apartments, lotsa demand) before the first (it had been rented out already), and if there weren’t at least a few people around, the woman’s belongings would all go to the local secondhand store. So we went, and came home eventually with a little freezer, some paintings and an older clock. (tick-tick-tick ding-dong-long-long-long…)
But we asked for permission for the stuff from the oldest in the family there, yes? She had her wits about her. There was one of the grandmothers’ daughters that just decended on the apartment like a carrion-bird on a carcass! It was two hours of noise, scrambling around, folk piling things in groupings, then loading up their cars. Horror!
That didn’t happen with Mike’s dad’s material goods. He had time to plan out what was to be sent were, and it happened quickly and orderly. We were WIPED when we went home.

Ahh.. we had a good week, and then we saw some ugly face in the family. U_u; Hubby’s mood is again scraping the bottom of the litterbox, and his mom is again up and down.
Come on peoples, life isn’t made up of being depressed!
I gotta get out on a walk. Baugh!
At least art and RP doesn’t get me all indignant!
< .< .... >.> … And writing too, when I get around it. Don’t you think I just wrote a huge essay here?