I did a spectacular backwards swan dive from a chair today. If I were an Olympic judge, I'd give myself a 10. In some of the classrooms, the teacher's desk is up on a platform something like 8-10 inches. I'm a little fuzzy about the details because I kind of blacked out for a second but I'm guessing one of the back legs of the chair was off the platform and, well, you can do the calculations about what happened when I took a seat. I don't exactly remember hitting the floor but I do remember feeling like I had been tasered. I felt paralyzed like the time I was 5 and stuck tweezers in an electrical socket and was completely unable to move for what seemed like an eternity. Smooth move, Rita. Even more embarrassing than crash landing in a classroom is being pulled out on a stretcher to a waiting ambulance in front of the all the parents coming to pick up report cards. At least the students were not in class to witness my extreme klutziness. I was in too much pain or I would have done the "queen's wave" as I was rolling by the crowd. The x-rays were fine and the end result... a pulled muscle. It hurts to breath, move and, especially, laugh. Don't make me laugh.
So here I sit in my bed, popping pills with pillows propped up behind the back and laptop on lap. Not exactly doped up but relaxed enough to feel comfortable. And write about silly things. Like Bimbo shirts. I've been around Mexico long enough that I don't snicker anymore when I see the men (or women) wearing shirts emblazoned with a huge BIMBO. I believe it is a brand of the makers of bread and sweets something like Hostess Ho-Ho's. It would be like a US citizen wearing a Wonderbread shirt. But I was reminded of the English meaning of bimbo when my family came to visit in April and they snickered when they saw someone wear such a shirt. This is a public service announcement to anyone who owns a Bimbo shirt. Don't wear said shirt in Smalltown, USA because everyone would point, stare and then run you out of town after tarring and feathering. However, I don't think I would wear a Ho-Ho or a Ding Dong shirt either.
I've blogged about potholes large enough to swallow cars in Reynosa before, but now that Hurricane Alex has passed I've been watching the roads disintegrate before my eyes. Nobody drives in a straight line because we all play "Dodge the Pothole". Everyone who drives around Reynosa must be careful of driving through standing water because who knows what lurks beneath the waters. I wouldn't be surprised to find alligators. To be fair, there are areas on the Texas side that are almost as bad but it's not as likely to find a missing manhole cover with a tire stuffed in it. I can only hope that the newly elected officials of Reynosa will do something fixing the roads around here. We can always hope, can't we?
The other day I was in line on the international bridge between Reynosa and Hidalgo where the signs clearly state "No Pedestrians" and "It Is Illegal To Buy and Sell Items on the Bridge". Apparently the hundreds of Mexican vendors did not get the message. OK, so they been around the bridge for like a hundred years selling bottles of water, peanuts, paintings of the Virgen, gum, sun screens for windows, or whatever makes a quick buck. Usually you will get you window(s) washed whether they need it or not AND whether you say yes or NO. They work their way well into US territory and the Border Patrol apparently do not try to fight a losing battle over this. Fine. No problem. Usually, I set my head into the automatic shaking mode of NO and they go away and leave me alone. Until the other day, that is. These vendors have developed the motto "If at first you don't succeed, try, try, try, try, try, try, try, try, try, try, try, try, try, again." Vendors knocked on my window. I shook my head no and went back to my phone call. They knocked again. And again. After numerous knockings most gave up except one. I was talking on the phone and he started yelling at me after knocking several times. I looked up to see this angry seller of cheap bracelets and necklaces. I shook my head no and pointed to the phone. He actually yelled back at me, "Me vale madre", which the English equivalent is "I don't give a shit." On US territory. Yes, he had crossed the international line to cuss at me in Spanish in my own country. Oh, yeah, like yelling at me like that is really going to make me want to buy his crappy jewelry. I've got an idea. I am going to load up my car to sell items like, oh, let's say, $1 shoes from the Korea store. Then I am going to hawk them on the bridge for $2 or $3. I'm going to wave them in the vendors face trying to force them to buy a pair. If they shake their head NO then I am going to cuss at them in English. In Mexico.
And, so, here I lie in bed on meds, like a potato, with random thoughts in my head. I wonder what I can think up tomorrow?