Is That An Echo I hear?
I’ve got nutthin’. Zero, zip, zilch. Nada. My little blonde head is entirely devoid of not only interesting or thought-provoking tidbits, but of pretty much anything. Seriously, there's nothing. Yesterday - well, by the time you’re reading it's today, but when I wrote it, today was yesterday and if I don't stop this right now I'm going to start whimpering - anyway, where was I? Oh yes! At some point in time (and that seems an altogether safer way of phrasing it), I parked myself in front of the computer and stared blankly at the monitor for quite some time while my brain apparently put out a sign saying "gone fishin’". You know those weeks where you run out of energy on Tuesday, but because you have a fair bit of momentum going you manage to be incredibly efficient for the rest of the week on pure willpower and then when you stop, you really S… T… O… P... ?
Of course, I could provide you with an update on the Wounded Warrior (as I've decided to call my mother), who is fine - well, as fine as you can be when you will have to spend several months in hospital/convalescent facilities/rehab. No more surgeries are planned, so now her task is to heal while wearing "really thick socks",
as she's decided to call the casts. As you can see, we had a terrific photo-op last week - what? Of course I brought my camera… - while I buzzed around her bed, taking pictures of the casts for historical purposes. Well, and so mor could see what her feet look like in more detail. Luckily, we managed to finish the shoot just in the nick of time before they covered up a crucial part. See, neither of us were aware that when there is a pin in/along a fractured bone, that pin may protrude out of your body. Naturally, there had to be a photo. Mor, Janne and I feel that this is definitely blogworthy, but given that one or two people have expressed some degree of surprise/queasiness upon hearing the story, I'm going to make the picture as small as possible to protect those of you who would rather not know (however, if your reaction to this is "neat!", click on the thumbnail for larger version – look at the tip of the 4th toe).
Following the Harlot’s example in soothing her readers with pictures of yarn to take the edge off, here’s an iris (I have no yarn) to hide in should you be overcome with ick.
I wonder if I’m going to post this? After all, it seems to be fairly close to proof that I’ve gone off my rocker. Or taken to drinking in the afternoon. Which I haven’t, although it’s altogether possible I’ve gone a tad giddy (batty?) with the tired.
p.s. it appears that in posting this, I have decided to exhibit no pride whatsoever, with the hope that the ravings of a demented idiot might be more entertaining than nothing…