Thursday, September 18, 2008

See You Next Fall

I got completely laid out while biking. I hit a pot hole and flipped over my handle bars; bruised my face something awful - multiple fractures (but no breaks, amazingly enough).

Now I just look like a burn vicitm, with sections of fleshy pink stripes across my face. Somehow my iPod, helmet, and bicycle made it through unharmed; not the bell that was on my bike, however.

My acumen is less than satisfactory, in my opinion. That is, I find it lacking - though I'm trying to give myself time to heal. I often find myself struggling for the right words, where once they used to come easily.

I had, after all, a mild concussion. I don't remember losing consciousness, but I definitely did a few times. I do remember flashes of the gurney and the emergency room. My one eye is still droopy, besides. I still wonder if I gave a peep show since I was wearing a skirt when I flipped over my handlebars.

$@bs

Friday, September 5, 2008

First We Burn It, Then We Stab It

What I'm describing in the title of this blog is my left index finger.

About a week ago I was making home fries in my cast iron skillet. One of my girlfriends accidentally set fire to one of two hot towels I own and the one hot towel was not adequate for my needs.

The burn left from the scorching first formed into a water filled blister. Now it looks as though some type of rat, or other rodent, has been gnawing upon it.

In the midst of all this, I attended a BBQ for the Labor Day holiday. I decided to make shish-kabob with chicken, peppers, onions and fresh pineapple. I carefully tried to avoid the noxious burn, which I did successfully.

In my painstaking care to steer clear of my existing wound, I also managed to stab myself with the wooden kabob stick. Luckily, the splintery tip of which was loosened from my flesh when soaking my finger in salt water, as suggested for my burn.

Why is it that once a part of the body is hurt, one cannot help but to further aggravate it? Or is it that you don't notice how much contact a part of the body has on the daily basis: you never notice how many there are of a certain car until you start thinking about buying that particular vehicle.

Once in the sixth grade I fell on top of my bicycle while walking it. I wound up having to get six stitches in my ankle. I can't ever remember banging my sore ankle more.

The main point is that it's not a good week for my left index finger. Healing is slow and painful, not to mention aesthetically displeasing altogether.

More news at 11.

$@bs