Famous. Again.

Got m’self in the paper again, yessir I did. Yep, yep, yep. *shines fingernails*

This is, as I’m sure you can imagine, quite the feat of fame and fortune in a town like Colfax, where all 1,054 of us are fighting for airtime. Burbling masses all vying for the limelight. Competitive newsmaking at its finest here on the 45th parallel.

It is possible the newest population data reveals 1,156. Let’s not diddle the details.

OK, truth be told, all you have to do is mention pretty much anything to the paper lady–or mention pretty much anything within earshot of the paper lady–and you’re in like Flynn, but allow me my moment.

Here’s the story:

I’m coming home from church last weekend, when, approaching the 170 bridge over the Red Cedar, I see two white-tail, trotting towards me, one in each lane. On the bridge. The frolicking deer meet my gaze, and even as I screech to a halt to allow them safe passage, they recognize me. They’ve heard tell of the heartless deer-roller who doesn’t even stop to make sure their victim has been fully put out of their misery—doesn’t even stop to assess the damages to their own ship. No matter the shiny new ride, they’ve made me. I’m a Reever, a space pirate, a monster, and they know it. There is no way these street-wise cud-chewers are taking their chances on me. They’d rather plunge to their death than hazard an encounter with another of the Ottinger fleet.

While we’re truth-be-told-ing, it’s important to note that the media got it wrong again. Truth be told, both terrified deer flung themselves overboard. I just only caught one of them with my rapid-firing phone camera. I don’t blame the paper lady though. She was only reporting what she heard, from an apparently unreliable source who neglected to mention details, believing her pictures capable of telling the whole tale, which they–sadly–were not. Even in this, the breaking front page news of Colfax, WI, there are already too many weak links for a straight story.

Honestly, I was shocked when that first deer took the plunge. Like, jaw wide open shocked. I was barely even on the bridge yet, and my stellar depth perception was pretty sure those babies were launching onto dry ground, and certainly their deaths. That’s a decent drop. This is, come to think of it, why I stopped taking pictures before #2 hurtled himself through the railing. My trusty thumb was numb.

Once both of my future victims evaporated from view, I pulled into the park at the other side of the bridge to see what I could see, but there was no sign of either of my acrobats. They were indeed over water when they dove, which allowed my heart to commence beating once again, but I didn’t see them bobbing in the river either.

Really, this isn’t surprising. The river is so high as to be double it’s normal width, and rushing through town at top speed. My air-cattle were probably around three bends before they even surfaced, at that clip.

Here are a couple more pics of the swollen river in different places that week…

I do wish I had taken more pictures of my hysterical deer though. Would have made for a great flip-book. Alack and alas, and damn and blast, the thumb failed me, and we are left with an incomplete story. There is one other goody in the mix though…

Good form, right?

What else…

Well, I wrecked my back wrestling batteries from car to car in a bullheaded insistence on getting to church for Palm Sunday.

There she is in all her glory.
What about the van behind her? That’s just another for the scrap heap. We thought we’d buy Scott’s mom’s van, until we found out it was ALSO rusting literally in half. Why do we live in Wisconsin?

Rusty Rita was indeed resurrected, but her battery was suspect at best. Come morning, she was once again dead. But you see, there was this brand new battery just across the driveway in the newly defunct van… Long story short and painful, I am bafflingly dumb, and the bulging disc in my back is proof.

Then I missed all of Holy Week, because bulging disc.

I did buy a new van, mid-Holy-Week and mid-excruciating pain. Took me 10 minutes to get into it to test drive it, and another 10 to get back out, but only a few seconds to empty the checking account. This is not the $900 van, folks. Though it’s kinda the $900 van in 2023 dollars. What is happening???

Welcome, Gertrude. Or Gary. Name and gender have not yet been revealed. Xe’s a blue Oddysey. 2010. Newest danged vehicle we’ve ever owned.

Upon his cursory pre-purchase inspection, the first words out of the mechanic’s mouth: “Well, she’s all beat up, just like you like.” Thanks, Nate. Look under the damned hood.

Why did Scott not buy the vehicle? Well, that’s another story, but for now, all we need to know is that we all have a few Achille’s Heels, and one of Scott’s is most definitely car shopping. Misplaced lumbar disc or no, the van-shopping was my baby.

And I did make it to Pascha. There were some pain meds on board if memory serves. And a hearty helping of Paschal miracles. I stood and I sat and I grimaced and I wiggled and I stood and I sat and I grimaced and I wiggled and I stood and I sat and I grimaced and I wiggled. Dear friends watching the pixilated livestream checked in the next day. “What have you done? You looked so uncomfortable.” Yes. Well. I was.

Paschal sidenote… As R pulled in from MKE late Holy Friday, she sauntered into the house wondering why exactly there were eight vehicles in the driveway. Obviously we are starting a scrapyard. When Em arrived from MPLS Holy Saturday, she too was mystified when it came to finding a parking space. We’re on a roll folks. A real redneck roll.

As the pain began to subside, I ran up to Northland for a tour with a couple of kiddos. Rusty Rita’s mama is transferring up there in the Fall, escaping Milwaukee, but she’s never seen campus. We thought it would be fun to drive up in a blizzard, so that’s what we did.

R, Em, and our tour guide who thought to wear boots. They already had a foot of snow when we got there. Our timing is impeccable, as always.

Those 6 hours in the new van, through the blizzard, weren’t so great on the recovering disc, so the progress of its return to its regularly scheduled slot was slowed. Gah.


Ah, yes, then we babysat 3 of the grandboys for a day while their mom took a test. I emphatically use the we-we here, as the she-we was not much into bending or lifting or chasing. The he-we was on point. There was a great deal of wood-hauling.

Then I got a massage. Which is new for me.

I did not die, so I think it really was a win.

And that brings us to today.

Back to life.

Man, it feels good to feel good.

And I leave you with a little gem from the Northland Bio Lab…

If you need me, I’ll be smartening up (ha!), not lifting dumb things in the dumbest possible ways, and possibly practicing my bridge-diving technique. I know I don’t look as good as those deer…

4 thoughts on “Famous. Again.

Add yours

  1. Damn.
    Clearly the word is out in the deer community if they’re flinging themselves off bridges at your approach. This is disturbing… but oddly impressive. You don’t look that terrifying to me, but what do I know?

    Liked by 1 person

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