Right or Left?

Driving vehicles on the left was a natural outcome of a feudal, violent society.   Swordsmen, mounted on horses, kept left of their opponents, with the sword held on the left hip, giving them the best advantage with their dominant hand.  Mounting and dismounting was from the left of the horse to keep the sword clear.  Dismounting left was safer when you were riding to the left of any traffic in congested areas. 

In the late 1700's, teamsters in France and the American colonies, hauling farm products in large wagons with teams of horses, switched lanes, so to speak.  Mounting from the left, they were seated on the left and wanted to have a better visual to steering their wagon wheels clear of opposing traffic. Since then, nations have had to decide...left or right?  The French Revolution caused a huge swing in Europe toward right handed driving, but Britain and its' colonies were mandated to drive on the left. Politics, practicality, tradition or otherwise, 35% of countries drive on the left and with the infrastructure in place for that, it would be quite the expense to change over now.  

It really only becomes an issue when you decide to drive in one of these countries that is opposite to how you have been trained.  Jim's first Father's Day was quite memorable as we were involved in a head on collision with a driver on a mountain road who came around the corner on the wrong side. He had just landed in the US that morning from England.  

When we arrived on the Isle of Man, we realized, with me now in a wheelchair, that our best option to see the most of the island would be with a car.  Jim navigated our family safely around the island for four days with a stick shift on his left and traffic on his right.  Most intersections in the countryside were roundabouts and our pleasant British accented GPS helped with navigation immensely.  At one point, Jim declared, "This is just wrong."  Getting back to Germany and then the US he is happy to be driving "right" again.

Dancing Through Europe

I try to make the best of every situation and it occurred to me how humorous this whole breaking a leg thing could be.  First of all, who came up with the idea of telling someone to break a leg before a performance was well wishing?  After my fracture, I don't wish anyone to break a leg...it's painful and inconvenient.

My first dance performance in Europe, was "break" dancing.  That occurred in Germany when I missed the step, fell down and broke my leg.  I did a lot of  " hop" as I was not allowed to put any weight on my leg (not sure how " hip" I looked). I also tried to "swing" on my crutches, but I was pretty bad at that and ended up doing the "bump" when I lost balance and fell.  I have a beauty of a bruise on my back end with that performance.  I stayed away from the classics, such as waltzing and tango.  I did a lot with "rock and roll" bumping over rocky paths in my wheelchair.  And I did "folk" at the local Manx Heritage Museum (folk museum...get it?).

I must confess I've never been a great dancer and have had many missteps when trying.  My tour through Europe is not a performance I wish to repeat.

New Set of Wheels

After my misstep in Germany resulting in my broken ankle, I insisted that we were continuing as planned.  I was not allowed to put any weight on my left leg and I was having a difficult time of it trying to get around with the crutches, so had been crawling with my foot up or hopping around in Lauren's apartment.  The wheelchair at the airport made life much easier and we determined that we would find one when we arrived in London or we wouldn't get very far. Thanks to our eldest daughter having T-Mobile, and it being a German company, her coverage was excellent and she and Jim headed down the street as I parked on a bench.  They returned with a lightweight wheelchair that I was now the proud owner of.  Now we were on a roll!  We rolled on and off the red bus tour of the city sites and took a Thames river cruise.
We flew to the Isle of Man and rolled all over the beautiful island.  We rolled back through airports to Germany and then to the states.  I'm sure we made an interesting sight many times as we maneuvered through small doorways, around tight corners, pushing a luggage cart while Jim pushed me or me hanging on to the cart handle to be pulled along with the luggage.  There were places that I just had to get out and crawl up some stairs to where I wanted to get to.  The stares of strangers were not a deterrence...I had places to get to...often the bathroom situated up some stairs.
My new set of wheels doesn't require insurance, no operating license and no speed limit.  I'm getting pretty good at rolling myself around, but it will be nice when I can hoof it again.

Got the Krank?

My favorite new foreign word became "krank" during our trip to Germany.  On our second day of exploring sites, I missed a small step, went down, and was pretty sure I had broken something because of the "snapping" noise, the searing pain and immediate swelling.  We had to drive an hour or so back to the town our daughter was living in where she knew there was a hospital.  As we drove up to the looming building on a hill, I saw the sign that said "krankenhaus"  which Lauren translated as "sick house".  So logical!  No explanation needed.  Lauren fluently got us admitted and filled out the paperwork and stayed by my side as translator and comforter.  The x-rays confirmed my diagnosis of a fracture.  I left the "krankenhouse" with an air cast, crutches, and a new word to add to my German vocabulary.  Next time you are under the weather, tell someone you've got the krank.

Dream Come True

Many months ago, my husband and I planned a trip to Europe to visit our daughter who was teaching English in Germany.  Our eldest daughter was to join us and we would, in addition to enjoying sites in Germany, travel to London and to the Isle of Man.  My grandfather came to the states from the Isle of Man when he was 6 in the early 1900's.  It was a dream of my children to take a trip with my father and go see his family heritage.  That dream was not realized, as my father was diagnosed with cancer and the trip never happened.  My dear husband suggested this was the time to go, since we would be so close.
Ten years later we landed on the Isle of Man.  We truly enjoyed exploring the Isle.  I am so grateful to my husband for making it happen, especially with the mishap that occurred before we got there.  I really wanted to bring home a couple of the frolicking baby lambs in the pastures, but settled on a couple of miniature stuffed ones instead.

Girl's Day Out vs Boy's Day Out

We had a large order ready to pick up at Lowe's for upcoming renovation projects and needed to drive into Show Low to pick it up.  Why not make it a fun girl's day out?  So, despite the snow, a friend and I headed out in a 4 wheel drive truck yesterday.   We stopped in art, gift, antique, and clothing shops and were delighted with our purchases.  We went to a lovely place for lunch in between shops and finally ended up at Lowe's where my friend purchased wood, pots and paint for a garden project and I had the truck loaded with my order.  It was a fun and lovely day.

 Not to be outdone, my husband decided to have a fun boy's day out.  Jim likes to hike with our dog, but some of the local trails have had a lot of trees fall across them, making it difficult to navigate. He invited a friend over and despite snow falling and a temperature of 34 degrees, off they went this afternoon, chainsaws in hand, to make it easier for people to hike the trails.  I'm sure they're having wonderful conversation about where they bought their chainsaws, horsepower, maintenance, durability, what they've cut up or down.

I love my husband and he loves me, but it sure is nice for both of us to have friends who like to do the things we consider fun when the other doesn't!  When he gets back I won't ask him if he had a fun and lovely time of it.

Hospitality + Hook = Hospital

This morning we had a guest who came back from fly fishing with a hook in the back of his scalp. He wanted to know if I would get it out.  He said I may need a sharp knife, wire cutters and needle nose pliers.  I suggested he many want to consider stopping by the urgent care center on his way back to the valley.  He was not interested in that option.  I called our local fire department and asked if they could extricate it....nope, not authorized to do that...suggested he go to the ER.   He then wanted me to give his wife the instruments and have her do it.  She did not look too keen on that idea.

Our guest was in sales and he is very good at it.  I found myself gathering all the mentioned tools plus some antiseptic.  One of the three barbs was hooked in the scalp.  I cut off the two barbs sticking out with the wire cutters.  Feeling the curved end of the barb in his scalp, I took the needle nose pliers and with a quick twist, pushed the barb through the scalp...ouch....then cut off the barb with the wire cutters and was hoping to easily pull it back and out.  Unfortunately, it did not want to slide out and after fiddling around trying to get it out he told me to just give it a good jerk.  We both took a big breath and jerk...it was out.  I doused the area with antiseptic and all was good.   His wife gave me a huge, grateful hug.  We chatted for awhile and they headed off to do some more fishing on their way home.
After they left, I was thinking about the scope of hospitality and realized the word hospital appeared to be the root, so I had to investigate: 

The word "hospital" comes from the Latin hospes, signifying a stranger or foreigner, hence a guest. Another noun derived from this, hospitium came to signify hospitality, that is the relation between guest and shelterer, hospitality, friendliness, and hospitable reception.

I am happy to provide hospitality but I hope not to have too many instances where we turn into a hospital.