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…because seriously, I crack me up.  In the Dr.’s office, giving them the new insurance card (no copay! woo! and yet I feel they’re gonna git me in some other way…) and I hear a little girl, about 3, saying “This is my lipstick.  I only wear it to fancy dinner parties.”

I turned to look at her and smiled at the mom, “Have a lot of those?”

She shook her head, “Yeah, I don’t know WHERE that came from.  She recently found my make-up, so I’m letting her play with it,  A little.” She was the kind of hip mom that wears make-up sometimes but feels guilty about it and is conflicted by the twin desires to raise her daughter to know she doesn’t need make-up to be pretty and to see her adorable child playing dress up w/lipstick smeared over her face.  I know b/c she was dressed like me.

The little girl held up a compact and peered into it. “I wear this to fancy dinner parties,” she told me.

“You look very fancy,” I replied.

She whipped a Christian Dior lipstick out of the bag.  The mom looked mortified.  “It’s the only nice make-up I have,” she apologized.

“It’s esspensive,” the girl told me.

“Yes, that IS expensive, ” I rersponded, “That’s why you should never put it on the dog.”

A pause, while I catch her eye.

“…no matter how pretty it makes her look.”

My work there done, I waved and said “Bye!”

———-

So, I was at the Dr. b/c I needed him to check on my finger.  What was left of it, anyway.  I seem to have sliced off the outside edge of my left index finger.  If you have one of these:

keep an eye on it. ( I tried to make it have a mean face but I have no idea how to do that.  So just thinking “I wish that had a mean face” didn’t work.  And, to my surprise, a Google image search for “evil rotary cutter” did not yield the desired image.)  I was cutting fabric for a bag when the knife jumped the edge of the ruler and went through my finger tip.  I had that moment of “oh, that’s gonna hurt” and ran for the sink, afraid to look.  Steve, luckily, was home that day, and able to run me to the ER.  Much blood.

No, there are no stitches, as I didn’t bring the slice with me.  Steve went and retrieved it when we got home.  I didn’t want to see.  And, frankly, was surprised the cats didn’t eat it.  Now I’m bandaged up and on pain pills.  Hooray for pain meds!

I went to the aforementioned doctor’s office to change the bandage and have it checked out.  the nurse unwrapped my finger and I gently wiped some of the blood off, but it was still kind of zombie-finger looking.  The Dr came in and recoiled with a “Urrg!”  I said, “I think you may be in the wrong field,” and he said “Internal medicine!”

So now I’m typing and trying to sew with 9/10ths of my fingers.  I’m part of a holiday show/sale on Dec. 2nd and I need more bags!  Frustrating.  I imagine this will be a slow heal.  And I won’t post pics until it’s just a cool looking Extreme Body Mod.

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