And the hits just keep coming.
Saturday night another
of my few Facebook Friends, who also lives in Cape Girardeau, Missouri, fell and broke her humerus (the upper arm bone) badly near the shoulder. It'll probably require a surgical repair, with stainless steel pins and all that. I think she's about 47. Her age may complicate matters. I'm starting to get the feeling it's unlucky to be friends with me, like I'm a jinx or a "Jonah" or something.
Though two of my friends are down, I am up two friends since last week -- up from 19 to 21, that is. Four of the twenty-one are apparently Turkish, two women and two men. Well, one of the men may be a Turkish Kurd. I think one of the women is a model, and the other may be a musician. I don't speak any Turkish, and I don't think they speak much English.
The rest are a rather motley crew or odd, hard-bitten lot of bartenders, bar maids, bar bouncers, martial arts instructors (one of whom specializes in training bar bouncers), burlesque dancers, circus performers, failed film producers/directors, three struggling authors, one college English professor, and one middle school art teacher. The last two I actually knew personally in my long ago college daze, though I haven't seen either in person since 2000 or 2001.
I had a slight, off-and-on, unrequited crush on the art teacher, who was a slip of a girl of 18 when I met her in 1989. Oh, she used to model nude for college art classes. I may have been the only person she knew in college who never saw her naked. She was one of the few people back then who tolerated me. Of course I was relegated to the dreaded (platonic) Friend Zone. I don't think she even knew I liked girls.