The Burrow

Fixing the men who thought being 7th in line for a gang rape would be fun is something best left to others.  I cannot imagine their home lives, the parenting they received, the friends they chose.  There's a lack of decency there that I can't remember being around, anywhere, any time.   I've been scrutinizing my past.  I'm wondering if there were signs I overlooked, signals I missed.  Was the neighborhood's naughty boy  reacting to his closeted older brother or his cold and forbidding parents?  What did he grow up to be? The houses on our street were built all at once and inhabited all at once by young families with small children.  We grew up together, playing across our front and back yards, waiting at the bus stop, sledding down the steepest driveway (ours).  Within that group there was no bullying, no feuding, no harassment... or was it there and I just didn't notice? I'd never been warned to look.  My parents protected us from ...

I'm tired, because I have to sleep with my head elevated and not on my sutured side, which is my preferred side.  Fitful describes it best. I'm itchy because that's what healing feels like.  Knowing that doesn't help much. My bandage is smaller and the swollen area around my eyes has mutated from fire engine red to a soft rosy glow.   My lips are still doing their Donald Duck imitation.  TBG has me doing mouth exercises to counter the effect.  It makes us laugh and sometimes seems to make difference. With big, black, dark sunglasses I ventured out to the store and lunch with TBG.  The restaurant was dark, I wore my glasses in the store, and as far as I could tell no one was totally disgusted by my appearance. I have two places to go for solace. One, is Ogden Nash:           My face, I don't mind it           B ecause I'm behind it.          It's the people out front th...

Typing through swollen eyes and a potato on my face to say that the Mohs surgery was successfu.  The stitching was necessary and I somehow never got the memo.  Thanks for the love.  I'm going to ice my face. 

I thought the Mohs doctor was going to compliment me on how well I was healing.  Instead,  he sewed up the remaining own wound and put a potato on my face to bandage it up. I'm to expect more swelling, bloodshot eyes, and, maybe, itching under the packing. No exercise (even walking), no sleeping on my side, ice packs and ibuprofen and acetaminophen and I can't promised to post anything for the next few days.   It's an hour after I got home and my eye is almost swollen shut.... this should be fun. 

The usually responsible Garden Leader took it upon herself to douse her colleagues with the hose. The 3rd grade girls were using the full size shovels to move mud from one end of the Digging Bed to the other; they were no longer very clean.     The 2nd grade girls filled the plastic wheelbarrow with potting soil, with no particular use in mind.   The Dollar Store's plastic wrap was a total failure.  The box collapsed, the cutting edge began to curl, and finding a section that was not over-wrapped by another section became, by the middle of recess, an exercise in futility. Spinach seeds are round balls, easily held in a palm opened to those with soil filled pots.  It was hot.  Her palm was sticky.  She had fun turning it upside down as we tried to put them back into the packet. 4th grade boys were engaged in serious negotiations beneath the mandarin orange tree, over what I do not know. And, as usual, the 5th grade girls began to hover around ...

Your hair is getting lighter  she said, referring to the black stripe going back from the top of my forehead, my skunk line, my last excuse to say  mostly grey  instead of  white , or, as TBG just suggested,  salt and light salt.... salt and pepper but not much pepper left. It's been a tough summer. Obviously.  Tell me. And for an hour, as she snipped , we traded stories .   Her daughter is now a Staff Sergeant. FFOTUS is a fool.  Penzeys makes great spice blends.  And so on and so on as I felt my shoulders relaxing and my face smiling and then we were both laughing at I can't remember what and, for a moment, all was right in the world.