Twila and other disasters.

Face plant, indeed. Every time Twila goes out to run, I tremble with trepidation. In the years she's been running, she's gone down more often than Linda Lovelace. I've seen it many times. She's running along, then all of a sudden her face is heading toward the sidewalk. Even when I'm concentrating on catching her if she trips, it happens too fast. Not to mention that she could fall walking across a basketball court, not only on a rocky trail. What is that?

Yesterday she'd gone running and I was in our bedroom hanging up some clothes. I heard the front door open.

-- Shouting, "Hi, honey! How was your run?"

-- That silence that means, "Get your butt out here." All husbands know about those silences.

So I walked out and there she was, clothes torn and bleeding all over the place. My heart sank. Fortunately her injuries were minor, this time. I wish she'd listen to me and watch where she's running. Well, good luck with that.

The other disaster* is that at the moment I'm trying to watch my beloved (go figure) 49ers on my illegal pirate station, and their feed has been weak today. I actually had to resort to listening to Internet radio for almost a quarter.

Some of you might be thinking, "Well, fine. You shouldn't be using that pirate station, anyway." To which I would respond (if any of you were actually thinking that), "Why not?"

Please consider, all I'm doing is watching the Fox TV broadcast of the game, commercials and everything. If I could, OF COURSE I would be watching it on TV. So why in the world do Fox and the NFL get their panties all in a bunch over my watching? Honestly, I can't figure it out. Well, there are a lot of things I can't figure out, I admit, and that is just one of them.

*I know "disaster" is singular and the subject says "and other disasters," but I actually don't have another disaster, at the moment, and I thought "Twila and other disaster" was lame as a title, comparatively.