crackalackin'

So you'll never guess what happened this weekend. We went to Sechelt on Saturday to clean out the rest of my grandma's storage unit (shock!). No that's not the surprise. It's coming. We dumped and donated the rest of her stuff, minus all the sentimental doodads like writing, letters, and handmade things. Habitat for Humanity received a pretty good score when it comes to furniture. My grandma was a crafty woman and even built her own kitchen chairs, among other things like two houses* (all by herself)!

With the help of my grandma's friends, we finally got the storage cleaned out and were on our way back to Vancouver on the 4:30pm ferry. Banana Boat baby had a good time running on the ferry and I had a *great* time running after her. We made it home in good time and I thought to myself "what a good day...but it's not over yet"  as we still had to unpack the car, feed and put B to bed and clean up since we left our place a mess after a week of work. I got out of the car, opened the back door and leaned in to take Bella out of her carseat. Then CRACK. MY BACK. All of a sudden it felt like someone stabbed a knife in my back, but no. It was just these creaky old bones of mine. I stood there in tears, completely immobile for fear of moving and making it worse. Victor's eyes were as wide as saucers and wanted to take me to Emergency. I told him I was okay (I wasn't) and told him to bring all of our stuff upstairs while I waited with Bella. Bella didn't like the idea of me just standing there while she struggled with the carseat straps. And I couldn't do anything! Not even calm her down. I just stood there. She thought I was super weird and continued to struggle until Victor came running out.

The rest of the night involved more tears, tiger balm, heating pads, advil (wishing it was Tylenol 3's) and sweet sweet massages. (love you Victor). The next day, I felt better but still had a sore shoulder muscle. Then Monday came. I took B to daycare in her stroller. Lifted her up, brought her inside. Then picked up her stroller to drop it off under the back patio. CRACKALACKIN**. Tears. Hysterics actually. Another knife to the back. So I sidled home and called work to say I couldn't make it. I could barely breathe and was getting a little worried for myself. But I made it home and called a massage therapist across the street from my place (at 7:30 in the morning, and she answered!). I got an appointment for that day and dear Hesus, I feel a thousand times better today because of it. I'm still stiff and could use my shoulders as ear muffs because they are so tense, but much better than the knife in the back situation on Saturday and Monday.

So that was my weekend in a nutshell. Bet ya can't top that.

* The two houses for which I have the plans (blueprints...are they called this anymore?) for if Victor and I ever decide to build an A-frame in our spare time on our Never Never Land fantasy island.

** did you know that "Crackalackin'" means "How are you doing?" in urban dialect? Did you also know that "ballin'" means someone who has money? Do you like my nerdy tone while writing this? I have a couple of friends who are in their mid twenties and actually use these terms. Who knew?