Dummy

dummy

Function: noun

Inflected Form: plural dummies

Etymology: 1dumb + -y

Date: 1598

1 a : one who is incapable of speaking b : one who is habitually silent c : one who is stupid

2 a : the exposed hand in bridge played by the declarer in addition to his own hand b : a bridge player whose hand is a dummy

3 : an imitation, copy, or likeness of something used as a substitute: as a : mannequin b : a stuffed figure or cylindrical bag used by football players for tackling and blocking practice c : a large puppet usually having movable features (as mouth and arms) manipulated by a ventriloquist d chiefly British : pacifier 2

4 : one seeming to act independently but in reality controlled by another

5 a : a mock-up of a proposed publication (as a book or magazine) b : a set of pages (as for a newspaper or magazine) with the position of text and artwork indicated for the printer

The other day Rhapsody, commenting on the background of a photograph of Alex that I included as part of my post entitled H-E-A-T, wrote:

Pardon me, but are those 'Dummie' books on your bookshelf (behind Alex in the one pic)? The black & yellow colors kind of remind me of them...?

Excellent observing, Rhapsody! Yes, those are books in the ___________ for Dummies series. I think I own five:

• Organizing for Dummies
• Marketing Kit for Dummies
• Resumes for Dummies
• Starting a Business Online for Dummies
• Dating for Dummies
  

Except for the last one, that told me nothing I didn't already know, I find the series helpful: the books are well organized; the information is presented at various levels, simply and to the point; and one can make use of information in the book without having to read the whole thing.

No, I do not consider myself a dummy. I am not stupid: I have earned three university degrees, headed more organizations, associations, boards, etc. than I can count, and have numerous people come to me for advice, both in my professional roles and personally.

No, I have never considered myself a dummy—until yesterday.

Please allow me to explain. During this hot weather I have been parking my automobile in front of my house rather than in the garage in the back. The distance to the car is much shorter when parked in front of the house, therefore limiting the time I must walk in the rather oppressive heat we are now experiencing. Logical move, right?

Parking in front was simple and acceptable until Wednesday of this week, when the Louisville Metro Government pasted signs on telephone poles and trees informing us residents of Bayly Avenue that there would be street cleaning on Thursday and that we were to move our automobiles off the street unless we wanted to pay a fine. Years ago, when I first moved to Bayly, there was a day when I did not see similar signs, did not move my automobile off the street, and ended up paying a $25.00 fine for illegal parking. I do not ever want to pay such as fine again. So I drove my CR-V around to the ally and put it in my garage Logical action, right?

On Thursday I had an 8:00 a.m. appointment at the VA medical center. I was up early, fed and played with Alex, showered and dressed, and was ready to leave by 7:15 a.m. It was then that I remembered that the car was not parked in front of the house, but in the garage in back. Thus, I decided to exit the house through the back door rather than the front which would require me to hobble along with my cane like Dr. House for an extra 50 yards of so. Logical decision, right? WRONG!

A few weeks ago, when my grandkids came to do yard work at my house, my daughter-in-law fell through one of the steps leading down from my deck to the backyard. It was a lower step and she did not damage to herself. However, I was warned not to use those steps until they were all checked and repaired.

Thursday morning I ignored that warning. When I stepped on the second step from the top, the support gave way and I ended up falling through:

Thankfully I broke no bones, didn’t even shed any blood. I did bruise both of my thighs, twist my right ankle, and, probably because I was holding my cane, sprain my right wrist.

The most traumatic part of the whole thing was figuring out how to extricate myself from the steps. As I was analyzing the problem, I was tempted to take my cell phone out of my shirt pocket and dial 911. I didn’t. Somehow—and I have no idea how—I freed myself from the steps, hobbled to the garage, and drove myself to and from the VA appointment.

When I returned home, I spent the remainder of the day in bed, being ministered to (and harassed) by Alex. Today I am much stiffer than I was yesterday. There is a bit of pain when I walk—make that “shuffle”—around. The most grueling part of today is, because of my wrist, I am typing and using the computer mouse only with my left hand, which makes typing extremely slow.

Of course, as with all traumas, I am attempting to find a silver lining. I think I shall suggest—perhaps even write—a new book for the Dummies series: How Not to Ignore Warnings for Dummies.