{He Said} This week brought to you by the letters F and U!

Growing up it was the superstition of the parental units that all things come in threes.  The weekend started with this.  At least no one was hurt.

On a recent date we saw this sign (there are street car tracks all over the city) and had a chuckle with "there has to be a reason they put the sign up".

Well we now know why there is a sign.  Saturday we were enjoying a nice trip down to the waterfront after a Farmer's Market run for fresh produce.  Pulling up to a stop light (and street car tracks) I hear a crash behind and turn around just in time to see Katie going over the front of the bike.

Now those of you who know my sweet wife will also know her first thought after the wreck.

"Did anybody see that."

We got her safely to the sidewalk and as she is leaning against her bike she passes out into some bushes.  She proceeds to roll over and starts to spit all of the dirt out of her mouth (later she tells me that her first thought was "why are you waking me up from my nap").

After she passes out one more time and has a seizure like episode the inner doctor is now going through all of the possibilities of what went wrong.  None of them are good and all of them have some component of blood seeping around her brain/needing to go emergently to the operating room/going to die on me within the next hour.  

After a couple of hours at the University emergency department she was sent home with some very sore muscles.  Of note prior to going to the hospital Katie had to change out of her jeans because "I like these jeans and I don't want the ER to cut them off".  There was also eye makeup that had to be applied (no it was not mine).

This has taught me a couple of lessons:

1.  Never laugh at signs

2.  It is easier to be doctor to people you don't know

3.  Nothing can ever happen to Katie, I was a basket case on the inside

As for things coming in three's.

Feast your eyes on what I came out to in the parking garage.

At least we are safe now.

Unless things really happen in four's.

{She Said} That's just...swell.

I am genetically predisposed to a rather violent temper. 

{Case in point: the time my dad went berserk and brandished a firearm at some smart-aleck teens in a parking lot. 

In front of his mother and his two oldest daughters. 

But, hey, this here is a family-friendly blog and that's another story that we will not be telling at another time...

I'm just sayin' there may be a probable wellspring for these rants.}  

So, anyway, you may permit me the bit of rage that surged up when I walked out to the car for my drive to work this morning.

Minding my own business.
Juggling the purse, the lunch bag, the keys.
Reviewing the to-do list.
"Remember to do those co-worker evaluations/schedule the dermatology appointment/make sure that new suture arrived/am I on call this weekend?/ask April about book club/wonder how my patient from yesterday is doing...awwww, man.

Seriously?

So, today's checklist veered away from my previous to-do items and instead populated itself with:
"File a police report/call the insurance agent/find a glass repair shop/get resoundingly lost in Vancouver, Washington while trying to find the glass shop in north Portland, Oregon because I am NOT genetically predisposed to a good sense of direction and Mapquest has some outdated exit numbers and some effer stole our GPS from its well-concealed spot in the car/contact the adjuster with some serial numbers/go find myself good chocolate."

Ahem.  So the violent temper is now on a quiet simmer {lucky for the smash-and-grabber that they are anonymous}, and I'm off to see about that chocolate.

Hope your weekend starts off nicely, folks.