pictures = 1,000 words

I wanted to write a post about how much fun I had at the Shakespeare this weekend, and at the gorgeous B&B in Fredericksburg, how much I enjoyed antiquing wif mah honey and the new project involving repurposed WWII linen mail sacks, and I wanted to illustrate all this with photos from our indoor picnic...



...except Nicki forgot her stays, and all she can look at is her midsection.

Jesus H. Gay, how did I get this fat again?

punch

Now I know what it takes to see a doctor immediately in today's healthcare environment: put a needle through your finger.

Yeah, it finally happened. Today I was using the eyelet attachment on my Bernina, trying to ensure that the linen wasn't bunching up under the needle, when suddenly there was an almighty crunch and the machine came to an abrupt halt. The kind of halt that usually happens when there's too much fabric bunched up under the presser foot, only this time it was the index finger on my left hand. Blood, yeah. I started to yell, and then realised the needle was still there, so I cranked on the flywheel and got my hand free. At that point, coworkers had rushed over to see what had happened--Nicole said that she realised something was wrong because it wasn't a "spider scream"--and pretty soon I found my finger doused in hydrogen peroxide, wrapped in gauze and encased in ice.

It was pretty shocking. The pain was tolerable, the worst part was the sound of the needle and having to free my finger. I had to fill out an accident report (well, alright, dictate an accident report) and then we went to the doctor. He was satisfied I hadn't sewn my fingerbone, and then went into an explanation how my finger hurt because of a trauma to the subcutaneous nailbed. "If you can imagine," he said, sitting back, "severe trauma to your nailbed..." And I sort of waved my finger in his face: "I don't have to imagine it, Doctor, it happened." I was glad to see my sense of sarcasm was coming back, it meant that the shock was wearing off. And then, when the nurse came in and gave me my tetnus shot it was all I could do to stop myself bursting out laughing when she warned me the needle might hurt a little.

Bwahaha.

I went home, confusing Kismet, and spent the afternoon napping in bed. Jeff came over after work and let me relive some trauma on his shoulder, and then Erin and Nicole came over to keep me company. I'm feeling a little tired, a little weak, but my finger doesn't hurt nearly as much as you'd think, looking at the punch through the nail. Hopefully it won't fall off...sigh.

Oh, and I also dropped of my car this morning so they could take care of the "SERVICE ENGINE SOON" light. Eighty dollars later it turns out the gas cap was broken.

I am so ready for vacation

A picture's worth a thousand words

I could write about what's going on in Virginia, but I won't. There's a TV in the lobby where I'm sitting, so I've been watching it for the past couple days and trust me, that's enough.

Last night Cathy and I went out for pizza. Cathy is one of my friends from Point and a working theatre professional in Chicago. We had a great time talking about theatre and debating the merits of Colin Firth's Mr. Darcy over Laurence Oliver's Mr. Darcy. I haven't seen the old version of Pride & Predjudice, but Cathy assures me it's suitably terrible, saved only by the fact that it's such a great book it's hard to ruin it completely. (although Chris Columbus could probably do it. If I do nothing else, I will stop that man from ever adapting another book into a film.)

Hm. I seem to have jumped in a pond and come out wet. And incredibly sexy."

For the record, Colin Firth has said that Mr. Darcy was supposed to be au naturel when he jumped into that pond--but the BBC wouldn't have it. I support the BBC's decision. Anything that gives breeches more screentime, is okay with me. But, really: would Darcy have ruined his nice silk shirt? Really?

We figured if there was ever a Mr. Darcy-off, Colin Firth would probably win based on a certain diving-into-a-pond scene, but obviously Laurence Olivier would give him a run for the money based solely on the fact that he is Laurence Olivier. I've decided to buy every movie he's ever been in, just to get my DVD collection jumpstarted. Am I a little biased? You bet your fur I am. I'm also really missing my copy of "That Hamilton Woman." Life just isn't complete unless I've got Olivier dressed as Nelson at my fingertips.

"Wait, what period is this?"


It also occured to me today that, in this environmentally-conscious climate, it might not be such a good idea to wear a button that has a picture of someone bludgeoning a polar bear to death with the butt of a rifle. I just think it's funny that someone went out of their way to make a badge out of this. Death to all polar bears. The sooner we clear this menance from our ice floes, the sooner we can get at their oil.

I found this picture while reading the news earlier. It's such an interesting photo, because of the juxtaposition of our first president and our current president. I'm not saying George Washington was the greatest person who ever lived, but he just might have been the greatest president ever. To think about the legacy that he created being manipulated and abused by the recent administration makes me just writhe in anger and embarassment.