Do Helicopters Eat Their Young?

This year, I returned to the world of boxing. I have fought my final boxing match (after fighting with recsports...a story too long and frustrating for this blog) and am now a retired boxer. This is probably a good thing considering I couldn't handle simple EMT checks after sparring rounds.

Before we fight in an actual match, we have to spar, which is like a match, but not scored and more controlled. The EMT's are present for all sparring matches to attend to each bloody nose and black eye. Their main job is to check each fighter for brain damage immediately after sparring. Even though I've done this plenty of times before, I forgot the standard procedure.
After my first sparring match, I was brought over to a young EMT guy. As he sprayed my gloves with disinfectant and I wiped sweat off my forehead with my ponytail, he asked, "Do you know what today is?" Anyone else would automatically realize that this question was aimed at gauging my brain capacity. I, however, took it as Mr. EMT trying to be coy. I never pass up the opportunity for coyness, so I replied "I dunno, Canadian Thanksgiving?" Mr. EMT was not charmed. "No, I mean today's date." Immediately, I realize my mistake. I could have easily overcome this by giving the man the date, but I was flustered and could not for the life of me even recall the season. "Just the day of the week will do," he said, checking to see if my pupils were dialated. "Tuesday! It's Tuesday!" I finally managed to spit out. "Ok, I'm going to have to ask you another question." I could tell Mr. EMT was a bit concerned. I was pretty sure I didn't have brain damage, but I guess it wouldn't hurt to ask another question. He went with this one: "Do helicopters eat their young?" Well this was easy! I knew the answer to this one! "No! Hamsters do!" Turns out you don't get bonus points in the concussion check for giving out fun facts. Mr. EMT chuckled, handed me my gear, and sent me on my way. I like to think that I managed to insert my coy charm in the end of that exchange. Mr. EMT probably likes to think that its ok sending a potentially concussed young woman back into the boxing training room. It's a win-win situation.


There is one more anecdote that is completely unrelated to the above, but I feel needs to be told. I risk telling a "you just needed to be there" story, but I think I'll take that chance.
At dinner with some friends tonight, I told Emma that I had been to my latest boy's house and met his two Siamese cats. Emma immediately responded with "Oh my God, they're attached!?" immediately after which, her face dropped as she realized what she had just said. It was a great moment in cat breed/human condition confusion history.