You know how when you don’t feel good for a long time, I mean so long that you don’t realize just how sick you you’ve been until one day you wake up and you’re just awake — I mean, like, really awake! — and then you feel so good you can’t stop doing stuff, so you’re tired, but you still feel awesome because you’re, like, alive.

Yeah, that’s me.

Don’t know what I had for three weeks, but I couldn’t get enough sleep. I woke up sleepy. I slept during the day. Me. Without earplugs. It was freaky. One afternoon I slept for two solid hours, zonked out in my recliner. No earplugs. I would’ve been there longer, but Cooper was sleeping on my lap, and my legs were getting sore enough that I had a dream about kicking him off my lap. Eventually, my fruitless struggle woke me up. I’m sure Cooper woke too, but he wasn’t moving. He was overcome with sympathy exhaustion.

Since the awakening, I’ve been bustling around the property and the house and working with my horses and cooking and working with horses and walking. It’s been fun.

And to celebrate the foudroyance of life, I give you: Jacoby Laquan Smith and Unnamed Girlfriend.
(original articles in the Minneapolis/St. Paul Pioneer Press no longer available)

Perhaps by now Mr. Smith has turned himself into the St. Paul, Minn., authorities who had a warrant out for his arrest for beating up his girlfriend. Seems, Mr. Smith became enraged because the unnamed girlfriend had blocked his direct line of sight to the television, then she refused to move and threw something at him, therefore, he felt justified to beat the crap out of her and take her phone away. It was a good TV program, after all, and the thrown object was disturbing, and he was already a little peeved at her to begin with. Phoneless and wounded, she asked him to take her to the store for some ice for her injuries and, while there, got the clerk to call 911. Mr. Smith fled the scene.

Right, you want the other details — you know me so well. Unnamed girlfriend is a wheelchair-bound quadruple amputee, as in one amputation of the appendage of each limb, not four amputations of one limb. And in his defense, Mr. Smith said she threw her full bedpan at him, and she often beat him up and tried to choke him with her nubs, plus girlfriend was fooling around on him with another man.

Alright. Yes. Of course. Mr. Smith, cuckolded or not, you are bad for beating up your girlfriend. Bad, Mr. Smith, baaad. Now that we got that over with, can I just say that Unnamed Girlfriend should be the new poster mama for handicapable people everywhere.

It’s safe to assume that Girlfriend does not live a glamorous nor well-funded life, and, if I may paraphrase Kermit the Frog, it ain’t easy being freak. Yet she’s getting her grove on with two guys, has some self-defense skills and gots herself wit and brass enough to stand up for herself, figuratively speaking. Now if we could only channel her moxie in positive directions.

It’s a big, wide world out there at: pam(at)viewfromthenorth40.com

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