Yesterday was nearly one of those days. Although I did post a little, it was below my norm. And here is why: I was having to recuperate. It was a serious day of ice packs, Ibuprofin, and Icy Hot.
A little background... As you probably know, OWN ('Ol Weird Nancy) and I have lived in several places around the world. Germany, Hickville Holler (Pop 2), etc... And as you reside in these various locals, you learn that they all have various customs that are normally unique to that local area.
One place near where we lived had The Pickle Drop each year. I read just this week where another place drops a Possum. While both are similar, each is unique to it's specific location. Why, right here in Hickville Holler (Pop 2), we celebrate Hog Snout and Pig Ear Day. The county has Tractor Day at the High School. So you get my drift... many types of local customs.
But one that is celebrated in MANY nations around the world except the Unite States is Boxing Day. It is celebrated throughout the British Commonwealth and around Europe... and having lived there for several years... I was familiar with the term, if not the custom. In a call with friends in Germany on Christmas Day, the term came up. And I also saw it mentioned in a post by my sister-in-law in Canada.
So this year, I decided that OWN ('Ol Weird Nancy) and I needed to bring some international flair to Hickville Holler (Pop 2). We were going to introduce Boxing Day to the trailer park. And I now know I should have learned a few things in advance...
First off... OWN ('Ol Weird Nancy) was excited at the prospect of celebrating Boxing Day with me. I should have been more concerned, but played it off. I told her we could each choose our own brand of weapon. After a little research, I chose a pair of 20oz Bag gloves which are cushioned to protect the athlete and the opponent.
OWN ('Ol Weird Nancy), on the other hand, decided to go with bare-knuckles. LITTLE did I know...
Folks... this was never a challenge. Within seconds of the initial bell, I was on the floor watching an airplane dive-bomb me... which I much later figured out was the ceiling fan. I had no idea what day it was... where the month is... or why I could smell Tuesday.
I vaguely recall one point where the tornado sirens were at such a high pitched frequency, that Bernie The WONDER Dog was howling along with them. And IF you recall... he is deaf. And as it turns out... the tornado siren was me. Screaming at her to stop. And I sounded like a little girl.
She was relentless. Folks... she literally beat the CRAP out of me. My brown eyes weren't even brown for nearly three hours afterwards.
But in my defense, I nearly beat the snot of of her fists with both sides of my face. So I do have THAT going for me.
In the end, I learned a thing or two... one is I won't challenge her again. Two is next time I'll do a little more research on a holiday before I try to introduce it to Hickville Holler (Pop 2). Three is... never mind. I gotta change my ice pack and take some more Ibuprofin.
And that's MY take...