Mending Fences or Arms… Same Difference.

If you’ve been reading So Wonderful, So Marvelous for any length of time, you’ll know that my husband, Dave is always doing something ridiculous.

My least favorite was the time he cut off the tip of his thumb.

So you know, when I tell you that he jumped our neighbor’s fence that there is a story coming…

He jumped our neighbor’s fence.

First, let me say, that we love our neighbors.  They are wonderful and funny and some of our favorite people in the world.  Bea called and asked me to look across the street for any signs of weirdness because she had gotten a call that their alarm was going off and she was out of town.  So, I glanced, didn’t see anything and told her I’d ask Dave to run over and give it a quick look.  Sometimes their dogs manage to trip the alarm.

Dave walks over there in sandals and without a bat.  Now, I’m no Spiderman and neither is he, but those seem like two highly unintelligent moves if you’re potentially going to be fighting a masked dog bandit.  Right?

He peeks at the front door, nothing out of the ordinary.  He peeks at the side door, nothing out of the ordinary.  And then he takes a peek at the backyard for good measure where he can’t fully see the back door.

Now, a little digression if you will allow it, there is a pool in the backyard, so the gate on the fence is padlocked at all times.  To keep out neighbors like Dave.

So what does my 32 year old husband do?  He decides to jump the fence.  Just to check it out.

Jump.

A.

Fence.

And proceeds to go over the fence in a manner unbecoming the 18 year old that he believes himself to be.  His shoe goes flying.  And he lands, for all intents and purposes, on his face.   He claims that instead of breaking his fall with his hands, he decided to pull his arms into his body, you know… so he didn’t break anything.

Clearly, that worked.

My favorite part of the whole mess is the stares and comments he gets when out in public. There was the grocery clerk who told him he should have the sling on the other arm, until he explained that both arms were broken. There was the old man at the farmer’s market who asked him if he was playing hockey and told him about breaking his nose seven times when he was about Dave’s age. And let’s not forget the four year old who kept pointing and telling his grandma, “look at HIS boo boo!”

The stares, people… dear God the stares.