Wednesday, March 2, 2016


Last night, I had a terrible sore spot on the edge of my right trapezius muscle.  I laid down on a tennis ball and tried to get the trigger point to release.  The tennis ball helped a little bit, but I was still hurting when Bill got home from work.  I asked him to massage my back.  He often does this with his feet, not walking on my back, but using his foot to press my muscles while I lie on the floor.  It feels pretty good when I'm not sore.  Unfortunately, he has arthritis in his right knee, which makes it hard for him to massage the spot where I was hurting the most.

Nevertheless, he managed to squeeze my muscle with his foot, then gave me a gentle massage with his hands.  His touch felt really good at the time.  This morning, though, it feels like I was in a fight or something.  There's a large, bruised feeling spot on my back.  I suppose it's somewhat better than yesterday's sharp soreness.  Guess I should drink some water and take an ibuprofen or something.

I remarked to Bill that maybe it's time for another trip to Budapest, which is a big spa town.  Last time we were there was September 2009, one week before we left Germany the first time.  We stayed at a beautiful luxury hotel and went to their spa, where a guy named George gave me a great massage.

My attitude has been rather piss poor lately.  I am definitely ready for a change of scenery.  I'm not sure if Scotland's weather will be nicer than Germany's, but at least it'll be different to look at.  And there will be great food and people around I can speak English to.  I'm sure to also hear liberally sprinkled f words as we walk around.  One lovely thing about Brits is that they often cuss a lot.  I fit right in.

I am kind of tempted to goad Bill into getting a kilt.  That way, he doesn't have to worry about fitting into his uniform anymore.  On the other hand, Bill is more Irish than Scottish.  My family is more Scottish than Irish.  I've never been really into genealogy, though I see some folks have done the history on my family.  As far as I can tell, we're mostly English, German, Scottish, and Irish.  I don't see as much Irish as I would have expected, but it's definitely there.

My mom's side of the family is very Scottish.  Dad's side is more English and German.  I have always suspected a native American snuck in there, too.  Dad's people are darker than mom's are.  Anyway, I am descended from a guy from Hamburg, Germany named Johann.  He moved to Rockbridge County in Virginia and my dad's family has been there ever since.  From what I can tell, my Mom's people are from the Lynchburg area and the North Carolina border.  If I didn't dislike so much, maybe I'd subscribe and check out my heritage some more.  And to think I got on this topic because I'm thinking about getting Bill to buy a kilt.

I suppose I should stop blathering.  Maybe later I'll be back with a book review.  The weather sucks, though, so I think it's a good day for reading. 


  1. I think I'm going to pay that $98 fee and have my DNA analyzed for ancestry purposes. My initial thoughts were that A) it's a stupid waste of money, and B) my parents had it done, and I cannot be all that far from 50% of each of theirs. Supposedly it doesn't always come out that way, though. Regarding the money waste, if I don't waste the money on DNA analysis, I'll probably eventually waste it on something equally stupid.

    1. Eh, it's $98. Why not?

      Maybe I'll do it too.


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