Boys will be boys

Apparently my younger brother Joseph fell out of a tree last week and broke his arm. (Actually, I found out last night that it was in fact a honeysuckle bush.) I've been calling him nearly every night to see how he is doing and to keep his spirits up. The first few days were pretty painful for him, and he was on a lot of ibuprofin. When I would call, this was reflected in his conversation - or maybe not.

There's a scene from one of the Asterix books when Getafix is on the way to the Druid convention when he is stopped by a cohort of Roman legionaries, challenging the group because there have been Goths sighted in the area. To prove that he is a Gaulish druid, and not a Goth, Getafix performs some of his magic: he gives a bunch of herbs to one of the legionaries to eat, at which the legionary can only say 'Hee-haw!' The cohort marches off, with the legionary braying every so often, while the commander remarks, 'Funny, it doesn't seem to have made that much of a difference...'

That was exactly how I felt after my conversations with Joseph. 'As you can see, he's really doped up on ibuprofin...funny, it doesn't seem to make that much of a difference...' I told him that Michael was taking my car in to get my tires rotated. Pause. 'Oh.' Faraway voice. 'Doesn't that happen when you drive?'