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walking wounded...

Friday, June 24, 2016
...on my person, both accidental, as well as painful. I was out in the woods and chased by a bear, but fortunately I escaped with only the slightest injury.. The claw marks on my leg are proof of my speed and agility, ability to out run a hungry bear. Fancy footwork! I'm sure you have heard the saying about how you really don't have to be all that fast to outrun a bear, just faster than the slowest person, right?

Pretty impressive, huh? The truth is much tamer and not nearly as awe-inspiring. I was working in the yard several days ago, and brushed up against a piece of hardware cloth attached to a fence post. Put there years ago when the Wonder Dog was small, little enough they thought she might wiggle through the gap between gate and post and escape. She is much too well fed for that now, but the dangerous ends of the stiff hardware cloth, still attached with zip ties to the post, silently waiting to poke the unsuspecting innocent who might get too close: which would be me...

The other injury happened this afternoon when I thought I could finish up the project for the county agent. The painting is done, with far too much time invested in applying colors to cardboard. All that remains is to cut the ovals out for the faces to go in. Where the photos will be taken when hordes of  kids come along to put a bright smiling countenance in the hole to give the appearance of human-oid features on ladybug, butterfly and sunflower.

I sliced my hand open, started a real gusher. So done with cutting.  Dripped all the way in the house, and across the kitchen tile till I could get to a paper towel to apply pressure. Remembering that I had purchased some of this miracle, newfangled product that is supposed to instantly stop bleeding. You just sprinkle the brown powder-y substance on an open wound, apply pressure. Today was the test: it works.

I'm all bandaged and taped and think I will probably survive. There is  not a photo of the knife-work done on my wrist. I discovered the sight of my own blood in such copious quantities makes me queasy. It is now apparent why I did not go into health services for a career - latent nausea, and the fact that I had one day of chemistry in high school and realized I was in the wrong place.

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