Art and inspiration

It’s been a horrendous week. That is all I will say about it, except for this:

Kia is doing great with her diabetes. After her glucose curve on Thursday, we are able to cut back the amount of insulin she needs daily, by 25%. So that is fantastic. Her weight is good, vitals are good, skin & coat are good. Her teeth however, are fewer, as of Friday.

I have been getting the kids teeth cleaned via a dental tech who comes to the house and does it here. Apparently, that isn’t the way to go. According to the vet. The teeth need to be polished after the cleaning, otherwise small divots and nicks are left on the teeth, where grunge can accumulate more readily. Which explains why they needed their teeth cleaned after only one year. Also, the vet kncoks them out so they can clean under the gums, which doesn’t happen with the home cleaning.

Whether it is related or not, I cannot say for sure, but… the same day that she had her teeth cleaned, Kia began having problems with her teeth/jaw. It came and went and I was being cautious with my funds, so I didn’t take her to the vet. Weds night I came home and she had a big fat lip. I checked it out and her upper canine was gone. Yes, the biggest tooth in her mouth was missing. Many hours of worry and dollars later, she is recovering from having the root of that broken tooth extracted, plus another chipped tooth from the bottom. She seems happier though, honestly, so maybe she was in pain and now is not.

A couple months ago, I Tivo’d a movie about Georgia O’Keeffe. I finally got around to watching it. During the majority of the 13 years I worked with art, I was not a fan of O’Keeffe. The colors were good, but I just didn’t get the stated genius of her art. I know she was a bit of a rebel and did her own thing in an age when women were to be seen, not heard. Near the end of my framing days, I found a painting of hers, a canyon scene, and fell in love with it. It must have been after I had visited Utah and seen in real life the palette and subject matter she was painting. I began to look at her work with new eyes, and developed an appreciation for it.

I was lucky enough to see an exhibit in San Francisco around that time. Seeing the art in it’s original form has such an impact. I remember tracing the brushstrokes, and seeing the nuances of shading and texture she used, something that usually doesn’t come across well in print. I had the same impression when I saw Van Gogh in person… and all the other masters that I was luck enough to view at the Louvre and the Musee d’Orsay in Paris.

The movie was very choppy, but ultimately I learned things I didn’t know. I sat on the couch after it was over, feeling strangely inspired. Maybe it is just that for that moment I felt free, the stresses of the last weeks had fallen off me for a moment. Maybe it was the result of gazing around my living room, my eyes alighting on each piece of art, each a revelation of myself: a myself that isn’t caught up in all the day to day bullshit of losing my house and trying to decide what to do. There is no helplessness tied up in those pieces of art.

In my living room alone there are bowls and cups and dishes that I made in pottery class. Fileld with coins, glass pebbles or cinnamon sticks, they are each their own unique piece of creativity. The statues that I have collected, Buddhas mostly, but a couple of other dieties whose names I do not know. Candles I made. A couple piles of yearn that are half-way to becoming fuzzy scarves. And Ganesh. The light was hitting Ganesha just right, and the texture in the glass was illuminated. The striations, the bubbles, the grain and dimples, the waves… all of it high-lighted in glorious splendor.

I had the urge to create. It was wonderful. I didn’t act on it though. I went out to the garage to play a bit with glass, and was confronted with the catastrophe. Did I write about that on here? I don’t think so. I wrote about it on glasswench. I need to reconcile that before I can move on.

I am hiking tomorrow in the forest, with the adventure group. When I get home, I will deal with the catastrophe, and move on. And enjoy some art.

Humorous

Last night I was leaving Red Bluff late. It was dark. I walked out to the car and stuck the key in the lock. I was driving my mom’s car.

The key wouldn’t go in. Tried it again. Still wouldn’t go in. I peered at the lock, tried turning the key upside down. Still no luck. Ran my finger over the slot, scraped at it again. Tried again, no luck.

I must have tried that key for a minute. Getting frustrated. I cursed.

A guy hollered at me “Hey! What arre you doing?” I looked up, and he was trotting towards me. Alarm bells began dinging. I said “The key won’t work.”

He said “That’s because it’s MY car.”

Blank look on my face.

I looked down at the car, peered inside. “Really?!?” Sure enough, not my car, too clean. I pulled back and looked at it againi. Beige 4 door sedan. Generic. Looked just like my moms beige 4 door Honda.

“That’s what we get for buying a beige sedan,” he said, smiling.

I looked up, and my car was parked right next to his. Oops. Luckily, I didn’t pound on it or key it in frustration, right?

Sell date.

OK. Brace yourselves. I have been keeping it under my hat for a while, but it is time to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

My house is in foreclosure.

The “sell date” is December 5th. “Sell date” is a sanitized way of saying “the day the bank kicks you the f**k out of your house”. Like I am meat, which is past it’s prime, or rancid milk.

I’m a statistic. I am one of millions. Millions. I really appreciate the sympathy and well-wishes from the folks who know but, despite the validity of the the argument, knowing that there are millions of other people out there going through the exact same thing, doesn’t lessen the complicated tangle of feelings that I have over this debacle.

I had a sound plan. I thought it was great, other people whom I trusted thought it was sound, too. I had a 10% down, almost a years income in savings, less than $1000 in credit card debt, plus a couple of respectable retirement accounts, if all else failed. Well, all else did fail, thy name is Countrywide; thy name is AIG; thy name is Lehman’s; thy name is Merrill-Lynch. Thy name is greedy, corrupt, capitalist pigs!!! … oh, sorry, wrong decade. Or is it?

The point of this isn’t to wallow in the mud-pit of the about-to-be-foreclosed-on, but to try and clear my head. I no longer have any clue as to what I should do. No clue. I have a few scenarios, but no idea as to which one I should pick. My instinct is to fight, of course, cuz that’s what I do. Especially when the opponent is greedy, corrupt, capitalist pigs! I have always had a weak spot for the underdog, and the red-headed.

But maybe fighting isn’t the right thing to do? I am also a big fan of the saying “things happen for a reason”, and have used it often to kind of zen my way through difficult situations. But this isn’t like the hotel not having any record of your reservation, or even not getting a job you interviewed for. This is the big leagues, this is my home, my abode, my domicile. This is “WTF am I going to do with all my stuff, my cats and my mom (not necessarily in that order) when the sheriff’s pry my fingers off the front door handle and throw my (our) ass (asses) into the street?!?”

Back to fighting. Unlike a lots of the folks who are going through this, I am not the victim of a shady loan, or of buying a house that is waaaay out of my price range. My loan has a 7% interest rate and is fixed. It could have been lower, and should have been lower (5.75-6.25), except for the unique situation of the housing market beginning it’s avalanche coinciding with my loan being submitted. Oh, plus the whole economy-going-in-the-crapper thing. I bought my house for $213K, it appraised for $249K; the loan payment is under $1200 a month, my mom pays half. It seemed like a no-brainer. I had the required 6 months of savings while I settled in and got up to speed with my new job. The house was in excellent shape, just needed a new roof, which, up here, cost less than $4000. It was a sound plan, and it hasn’t worked out.

It’s hard to fight a gigantic lending corporation. I’ve been trying since January to modify my loan. Since late July the status is “awaiting final approval”. That just means that it can still be denied. So the question is: should I just let it go? Just kiss off the last two years and thousands of dollars that are tied up in my now-upside-down, bank-owned home. Do I stay here and move into a rental? Do I leave NorCal, move back to the Bay Area? I just don’t know. And I don’t have any confidence tha tthe decision I finally m ake will be the right one.

One line of thinking is get out of the house. Why continue to pay a higher mortgage on a house that has lost 25% of it’s value? And I see the validity of that argument. But it’s my house!!! I have tons of money and time and emotion invested in it. Eventually, the market will turn around. It might take five years, it might take ten, who knows?  God!! this is so stressful.

I remember when the most stressful thing I had to decide was whether to cut fifth period and get high, or wait until after school to get high. Then the most stressful thing I had ever done was break up with a guy I dated for three years. After that it was whether to buy the frame shop or not. After that it was whether to file bankruptcy or not. After that, planning a wedding. That was stressful I thought would be the most stressful thing I ever did. Then Jake and I tried to buy a house. Then it was the divorce. Then it was buying this house, and the physical move up here. And saying goodbye to all my clients was crazy stressful.

Now this.

Why is it that life is a series of increasingly stressful experiences? That is messed up!

I don’t want to leave Redding. I like it up here. I can’t say that I love it, not honestly. It isn’t ideal. But it gets better each day. The thought of moving back to the bay area just doesn’t appeal to me. Parts of it are appealing. Being closer to friends, being closer to the wine country, closer to the ocean. Bigger job market, more clients, more discretionary spending. But the traffic… the sheer press of people. I like people, kind of, in small doses. Groups of ten or less. Kidding… maybe.

<sigh> I just don’t know. I wish I still drank and smoked pot. It would blur this all out to a decent level.

So send me some positive energy. Send me thoughts of my loan being modified, of my business growing. Of me climbing out of this pit. Or maybe jsut send me thoughts of mental clarity, cuz I am grasping at straws these days. I am even reading my horoscope, and hoping it is true.

“Several good, ongoing thins wil get even better as they expand into something more than you envisioned. There will be no limitations on the possibilities” reads one.

This is my fave, though. “One of the most productive times in recent yeats will begin for you this week, and you’ll find you have all the energy, self-belief and ambition you could possibly need to reach your goals. You may be surprised and delighted by just how quickly it all comes together. Kudos!”  … I will definitely take some of that.

 

 

Come on coffee, kick in!

OMG. I am so tired. Already. And the tiring stuff hasn’t even started yet.

Here’s a snapshot of my next few days:

Saturday 6am- get up, shower, eat breakfast and throw everyhting that I need for the next 4 days into the truck. On the road by 8am.

8am- drive to pinole. take a nap, take another shower, head to concord for the 25 yr reunion by 2pm.

4:30- leave reunion, head for oakland intl airport to catch 7pm flight to LA.

9ish- land in la, get bags, hop on shuttle to rentalcar lace, get car, head to friends house to spend the weekend. hopefully watch some Glee, cuz i missed this weeks episode. i have it on tivo, but haven’t watched it. and i just don’t know if i can make it through 4 more days without some Glee, you dig?

midnight- sleep

Sunday 8:45- hit the road to work. 9:30 appt, working thru til 7 or soemthing. i get lunch at 3pm. screwed up there. so maybe i need to leave at 8:30 so i can stop at rainbow acres and get a slice of banana bread and an apple to fuel me through the day.

after 8pm- if stuff is open, run a few errands. who am i kidding? nothing will be open. so go back home, give gogo some lovin’s, go to sleep.

Monday 9am-need to be in carson, at dermalogica, at 9am. get product, race back to marina del rey in time for 10am facial. work through the day. last client done around 5:30. clean up room, slog laundry down stairs, go to laundry mat. do laundry.

9pm- hopefully i am done with laundry by now. go home, pack.

Tues 8am- out the door, run my errands. need to return car and be back at LAx for 1:15 flight.

2:30- land in oakland, spend time with marisa, hit the road, jheading for san jose by 3:30?

4:30 ish? get to jake’s in san jose. at some point over the next 20 hours I will sit in the hot tub, socialize with jake, sleep, go to storage unit and load 4 boxes, and hit the road for Redding.

5pm- with a tiny bit of luck… i will  be home, in Redding. where i will stop at Chevys, take advantage of their happy hour food and one marguerita. Then I will go home and sleep like it’s 1999…

weds. 10am-go to work. god.

Blustery Day

I love a blustery day. L-O-V-E it!!!  The trees are all whipping around, like those air powered, long-armed doll things businesses have out front, to attract attention. The simile makes me smile. The poor little hummingbirds weren’t too happy with the wind. Poor little guy had some trouble holding steady at the feeder. I wanted to go out and hold him up so he could drink without being blown about. Course, that would never work. 

The sun is trying to come out now, the wind still gets up to mischief in fits and starts, the occasion heavy rain comes pounding down… its great. Supposed to be sunny for the next couple days, then maybe some more rain. One of my log racks blew over in the night. i meant to take a photo, and forgot. It was listing alarmingly yesterday, when I arrived home. I tried to tilt it back, to stuick a brick under the front legs, but I couldn’t move it. Too heavy. Which is weird, since it is filled with wood. I don’t know what I was thinking. Sometimes by brain time travels, and goes back to when I was young and strong and all things were possible. Like carrying a couch up three flights of stairs, on my back. Oh, wait… that was Joe, not me. But I watched, and gave him mental encouragement. That was a rockin’ apartment, too, as far as apartments go.

Speaking of being not young, my bruise still hurts. he main bruise has healed, but the long stripe bruise is still there. And the whole area is still tender. I was laying in bed last night, on my side, and Manny came up and stood with his front paws on that spot. Hurt like hell. Poor Manny, I scared the crap out of him when I hollered. He wouldn’t come near me for the rest of the night. 

Feeling kinda melancholy these days. Maybe it is the onset of fall, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I paid $60 to the appliance repair guy to fix the dishwasher, and all he did was plug it back in. <mental forehead slap> It occurred to me to check the plug, too, but that thought happened to come in the shower, where I couldn’t do anything about it right then, and then I proceeded to have many other thoughts… and, frankly, many of them are lost to me now.

My energy is low. The mornings are good, I wake up, all fired up to do stuff. BUt then the day goes on and I run out of steam or gumption. Love that word: gumption. Makes me think of an old guy in overalls with no teeth. Putrid is another word I love. It’s so evocative. I am just all over the place today, aren’t I?

I guess I feel like I have no life. And facebook is not helping. All those people, doing all those things. I wanna do things!! Maybe I should leave Redding, move back to the Bay Area. God, but I don’t want to start over again! 

Ok, enough. Time to do something different than blather on about not having a life.

another beautiful day

i love fall. it is the best. we went from 108 to 75 degrees, in two day. but fall is definitely here to stay. the nights are down in the high 50’s. i actually turned the house heater on the other morning. it was cold cold cold inside, even after I put on flannel bottoms, and slippers. but it is great.

ordered a cord of wood for the winter. it will be delivered tomorrow. spent yesterday emptying and then relocating the log racks from the backyard to the front-side yard. having them in the backyard is a pain in the ass. You either have to go through my bedroom to get to them, or down the side of the house which isn’t lit. and with the skunk in total possession of the yard after dark… you do not want to be stumbling down a dark alley and run into a skunk.

had the first fire of the season, in the fireplace. it was glorious. my mom complained about how cold she was. not sure if i am ready for that again.

today was a stressful day for the pussies. teeth cleaning day. had the mobile unit come over and scrape all the crap off their teeth. they hate it, of course. the lady wraps them up, like apapoose, with only their little noggins hanging out…

poor baby. he was hollering like he was being scalped. very traumatic.

in the afternoon, i was feeling a tad lazy, wandering around the backyard, trying to pet the kitties,w ho wanted ab-SO-lutely nothing to do with me, and my gaze came to rest on the hammock.

you know how you become enamored of something, some thing, or some idea, and you ae obsessed with it for ages. until you get it. i got the hammock at a garage sale. $10. stuck it in the shed. idly checked craigslist for a hammock stand now and then. one day, there was the hammock stand. $10 and a drive to shasta lake city, about 10 minutes away. came home, so excited!! gonna put up the hammock and lay in it. the life of leisure!! slothfulness!! wallowing in laziness!!!

but the hammock stand wasn’t long enough, the hammock rested about 2 inches off the ground. booooo!!! so it sat out in the backyard for the entire summer. swinging in the breeze. i would look at it occasionally and manny would be laying on it. great, a cat bed. at least it only cost $20. Someday I would get to fixing it, shortening the strings so I could use it. but honestly, the thought of doing all that exhausted me.

we had friends visit last week. the gentleman visitor fixed the hammock by this ingenious method of just wrapping it through and around the stand. so it has been out there, gently swinging in the breeze, mocking me.

When my eyes rested on it today i thought YES!! I’ll sit in the hammock. So i did. gingerly. it heal. i bounced a bit. no tearing sounds, good good… hm, all seemed well. i looked up at the tree and watched the sunlight wink in and out. it was great! so i rolled over and popped out of it, to go grab my book.

here’s the thing. anyone of you who has ever been in a hammock, and then gotten out of said hammock, knows that there is no such thing as “popping” out of a hammock. you can fall out of a hammock, you can get tangled up in a hammock, but there is definitely no “popping” out of a hammock. esp. not with an ass the size of mine. esp when the hammock is still pretty low to the ground, like say 10 inches. its like trying to get out of those low-slung lawn chairs. tools of the devil, i say.

once you do it a few times, it gets a smidge easier. i imagine that if you have one of these at a party, add some booze and a video camera, you could get some hilarious footage. you could probably also break a bone or two. <snicker>

almost as soon as i had settled in the hammock, manny jumped up. he is seemingly unafraid of the hammock. he settled in quite quickly. after a half hour or so, Kia came over, squeeking fro a bit of attention. whenever she has a traumatic experience, she avoids me at first, then a bit later needs affection to reassure her of my continued love. or so i suppose. so i petted her a bit and tried to grab her and pull her up. she wasn’t having any of it, and ran away. she came back a couple more times and eventually put her front paws on the hammock!!! OMG!!! like lightening, i snatched her up and held her on my chest and gave her her favorite chin scratch. she settled down, purring. eventually, she moved off my chest, to curl up, still on the hammock, next to my hip.

total score!!!!

lastly, jadzia came wandering over. jadzia hates to be left out of anything. hates it. manny is the type of cat who invites himself. kia demands attetnion by remin aloof, and inaccessible. jadzia just wants to be part of the crowd. after inspecting everything thoroughly, up she jumped. she looked around and settled for my tummy. for a brief 10 minutes i had a three of my kitties lounging in the hammock with me, on a beautiful fall day. after 10 minutes though, kia had to leave. too many people at the party now. jadzia immediately took over kia’s conveniently pre-warmed spot.

Random Thoughts

I was driving to work a couple days ago and passed a pickup truck with a gigantic goat on the back. Not something you see everyday.

Spent the plane ride home, from LA, chatting with my seatmate, a very cute 28 year old guy. We talked about all kinds of things: Burning Man, Obama, conservatives, religion, eating healthy, wild fires and fighting them, the environment, age and it’s relativity. I made a comment at one point about being quite a bit older than him and his reply was “so, you’re what? around 70?” I thought that was pretty funny. Helped an older lady cary her bag off the plane. Based on the weight, she was bringing back several anvils from LA. 

Summer is not quite willing to give up its grip in NorCal just yet. The last few days have been quite hot, yesterday topping out at 112. today is supposed to be cooler, but I doubt it will be the low 80’s that I imagine when someone says “cooler”.

Kia was very pissed at me for this last trip to LA. It took her until last night to be friendly again.

Went to bed at 8pm last night. Glorious. Woke up at midnight, got a drink, visited the ladies’ room. I seemed awake, so I turned on the bedside light and opened my book. Woke up again at 3:30am and turned the light off. Slept until 7 am. I feel great. A little stiff from sleeping so long. Sleep is awesome.

Speaking of sleep… thank you Wren and Xique for your LA hospitality. Your hide-a-bed is sinfully comfy. And it was great to spend so much time with GoGo, too. My kitties were very interested in my hairy shirt, just like I thought they would be. I think Jadzia sprained her nostrils…

Thinking about driving out out Lassen today. I’ve been here for two years now, and I still haven’t made it out there. I see the mountain almost everyday, and the adventure group goes on hikes there all the time. But they are moderate-to-strenuous hikes, and my ability level is much lower than that. It’s only  an hour away. I really should go. Take my camera and get out into nature… weather forecast is for 90 in the park. At that elevation, that might be doable. 

I am having the urge to work on glass though, too. At noon-ish, though, it will be too hot in the garage to sit out there. So maybe I’ll work on glass for a couple hours, then hit the road. I’ve gotten a couple more commissions on glass. One is a repair, the other is five single butterflies for christmas presents… that’s pretty awesome, a total of three commissions in the pipeline. Now, if only the turtle commission would come through. Greedy, aren’t I?

Could the news stop plastering Mackenzie Phillips and her dad all over the place? Ugh, makes me slightly ill to see all the smiling photos and think about her “revelation”. I’m getting a little tired of all this heinous behavior being brought out into the light of day, and being excused away with “I was under the influence of drugs”. Maybe I am becoming less flexible in my sympathies, but I don’t htink there is ever an excuse for having sex with your father. Especially as an adult, and certainly not for 10 years. 

So much stuff to do around the house. I need to drain the hot tub again. I need to relocate the woodpile. Ugh. That will be tons of fun. Then order the wood. Too hot for that kid of thing this weekend, so I can not do that and feel ok about it. Finally waxed my legs yesterday. It was still awkward with my monster bruise.

 

Sunday night... one week ago.

It is looking much better a week later, there are patches of normal color in between the bruising. Wonder how long it will take to go away. I have had other bruises pop up over the past week too. I’ve gotten a couple decent ones on the other leg, plus the big toe and foot on the boo-boo leg have colored up a bit. All-in-all, a very satisfactory bruising experience. 

I need to clean up my glass equipment today too. Now that I am done cutting, I need to clean and rinse all the machinery so it doesn’t get all jacked up. Equipment maintenance is a pain in the bum, but it has to be done…

Ok. enough bitching and whining. time to get to work, so I can hit the road for lassen in a couple hours. Have a great weekend!!

monday morning

 

self portrait

i don’t know what i was worried about… the bruise came in just fine. now f only the swelling would g down. and btw, i do not recommend this. it hurts like hell. jiggly fat wobbling when i walk is painful. i have learned how to glide when I step now.

It’s a late bloomer

Day one. And I am one gimpy MF. Tomorrow should be interesting. They say the aches and pains are worse the second day.

Grace, strikes again.

I have always been gifted with stunning grace. I float along the pathways of my life like a butterfly, graceful and effortless. My step is sure, my movements smooth.

Ok, so that is total bullshit. I couldn’t even go any farther with it, it was such absolute bullshit.

My dad gave me the nickname of Grace when I was 9 or so. I was walking along a cement block fence, farting around, showing-off, and I fell off of it. I don’t remember being injured, but he started calling me Grace, ad that was that. Though nobody else ever called me that, and I had an entirely different nickname in high school, mentally, I have been Grace.

The repeated breaking of my toes only reinforced that inner opinion. Especially when I broke my own toe at my senior banquet. I was all hopped up on crank and I was dancing like a crazy person and stepped on my own toe. I’m not especially clear on the exact logistics of it (I was spun up, plus there were lots of strobing lights), but I ended up with a busted toe. And I did that again and again. To the point where my husband forbid me to go around without shoes on. As much as I loathe the spousal-order, I have to admit, it was excellent advice, and <knock-on-wood> I don’t think I’ve broken a toe since.

Other than that, I am relatively broken-bone free. Beth Jones broke my nose in high school. I broke my thumb playing softball in grade school. Sprained my wrist playing tetherball. That’s it, I think. But there have been plenty of graceful moments. Plenty.

Trying to jump out of a boat, onto a dock, at Eagle Lake. I kinda missed the dock and shaved a two inch long strip of skin of my shin. Ugh. Typing that makes me cringe. That frakkin’ hurt. And I felt stupid. I was with Marisa, and she almost pissed herself laughing. Not that I wouldn’t  have done the same thing if positions were reversed.

What else, what else? I was 10, window shopping with my mom and cousin and aunt, in Danville, I think. The adults were looking in a window, and my cuz and I boosted ourselves up on the window ledge, to get a better look. I misjudged the depth of the plate glass though, and slammed right into it, like a freight train. Gave myself the mother of all bloody noses. I remember laying in the back of the Corolla, parked on the tree-lined street, hatch up, my head hanging down the bumper, with rags pressed tight against my face. Blood was everywhere. I remember watching the curious/horrified faces of the driver of the cars passing.

I know there are many more incidences but I cannot think of them, so the trip down memory/example lane must end. Bringing us to the reason for this mornings writing. Grace has struck again.

I wiped out last night, in my bedroom. Tried to step over the Pilates machine, in flipflops… as I was doing it, I had the fleeting thought tha tit wasn’t the best idea. How it went wrong exactly, I am not sure. I mean, I know what happened; I caught my toe its flipflop on one of the cables. And I wasn’t able to free my toes before my forward momentum brought me down. I am just not sure of how I ended up in the position I was in.

This is my machine. (craigslist $80. you have to love craigslist). I don’t have the bouncy part at the bottom, just the frame, but otherwise, it is exactly like the one i my bedroom. The thing is huge. It’s two feet wide by seven feet long, and it has bits that stick up into the air, like round tipped spikes, waiting to impale you. Manny is fairly impressed with its qualities as a cat lounger.

So, see the two silver metal rails, at the top end? Where the cables are? Somehow, my right knee and hip ended up smashed inside that area. I whacked the edge with my knee, and then the momentum of my glorious 200+ frame scraped from my kneecap to my hip, wedging my firmly inside a space that measures 14″, my captured toe hanging out one side, my knee not quite touching the ground inside. I don’t even know where the rest of my body was. Above, I guess.

I remember thinking you have GOT to be KIDDING ME on the way down. And then everything hurt. It took a few minutes to get myself extricated from the pretzel machine, then I took a survey of the damage. Visually, not too bad. Had a dime sized chunk missing from my knee, already welling and impressive amount of blood. A good scrape mark from mid-thigh, up to my hip. That was it, for visual. But man did it ache, and it was begining to throb, like a bass drummer just warming up. I grabbed a wet washcloth, tow icepacks and a kitchen towel, and hit the couch.

Despite the ice, the swelling was very impressive, and the skin turned a nice bright pink. It sure felt like it was gonna bruise. My upper thigh looked like those funny pants that fancy horse riders wear. Jodhpurs? Huge and puffy on the side. By the time I went to bed, the swelling had gone down quite a bit and you could see a blue-tinge under the surface of the skin. I was pleased with the blue tinge. I figure, if you are going to have an owwie, it should bruise impressively. And my entire thigh, from my hip to my knee, felt like I had been kicked by a small horse (a shtland pony, say), and then skidded along a pavement for 6 or 8 feet. Not enough to remove skin, per se, but enough to give a really good stingy sensation.

I wake up this morning and, sicko that I am, go the bathroom to check out my awesome bruise. I am extra-crispy stiff, and my knee is unhappy, to say the least. I turn on the light, pull up my nightgown… and nothing. Not a fucking think. a faint pink line. That’s it. GAH!!!! It hurts like hell!! It should be purple and blue with a hint of green around the outer edge!! The skin is painful to the touch (wearing pants today should be loads of fun) but nary a bruise in sight.

Dang it!!! Even the bloody hole on my knee is bruise free. That is fucked up. I have been ripped off. Grrr!  I should at least have something like this…

Not my thigh...

There are some very impressive bruise photos out there in web-land. This is from a skatebaording mishap. She gets extra points for the Eeyore jammies, as the thigh belongs to an adult. Excellent color. This can’t be good, really. I think I would prbably go to the doctor if I had a bruise like this:

Remind me to never step on a skateboard

That’s it. <sigh>. I’m gonna take my limping-ass off to the shower and begin the laborious process of getting ready for work. Sans bruise. Got to figure out what to wear. maybe a skirt?