42 inches

You know how at baby showers nowadays usually when you show up, they have you write your name and address on an envelope to be used for your thank you card? Male readers, heads up: they do this. Well it is a really good idea for a number of reasons. It is certainly much more efficient than having everyone write their addresses in a notebook, only to have to transcribe all these addresses over again onto envelopes. And it helps to ensure that the person being showered really does send out thank you cards, since that big annoying part of the task is already taken care of. What I'm saying is I fully endorse the write-your-address-on-an-envelope part of a baby shower, it is a great thing.

Still, there is something so trippy and shocking about opening your mailbox to find a letter addressed to yourself in your own handwriting. I fall for it every time--what's this?! A message from the future! What piece of knowledge did I need to receive on this very Thursday, future-Tracy? Some sort of warning? All the upcoming professional sports scores so I can finally quit my job and get rich without doing any work?!

Oh, wait, no--Sara liked the hangers. Also good to know.

there is no why

Once upon a time... from Capucha on Vimeo.

without civilization

The area on and around the scar on my back is numb to all sensation. It has been this way since it was initially wounded; I'm not presenting you with a recent development in my life. It's about an inch and a half wide by nine inches long, and it feels nothing. I've grown accustomed to it for the most part. When someone is scratching my back I now anticipate the little hop from one side of my back to the other. I recognize that a massage will never be quite as satisfying as it once was. I will never be able to tell if somebody tapes a kick me sign right to the middle of my back.

But today I realized the worst effect of all.

Those 13 1/2 square inches of skin will never be warm again. Jack Frost has been so adamantly forcing himself upon us, refusing to yield until every last one of us has given up the fight against his wiles and resigned to the fate of three months of shivering. Today in my last valiant effort to vanquish the cold, I took a hot shower once I got home. It seemed to be working until I realized the sad truth. A blank, deadened spot right in the middle of everything, that no amount of steaming water could reach. I felt the comfort of the warmth to either side, but right there in the center, nothing. It's going to be a long winter.

I guess there are bright sides, though. Perhaps my expanse of numb skin will become the opposite of an Achilles' Heel. My Paris' Spine. I will be invincible there--just try to poke or pinch me! Do your worst! I feel nothing. Or if some future boyfriend accuses me of being unfeeling, I can quickly turn the tables in that argument by making him feel guilty about bringing my scar into it. Who's the insensitive one now, future bf?

timbertoes

It is a comfort
to know
In these tumultuous times
That I can rely on one constant
When I visit a doctor
regardless of specialty or state
Even if no malady is diagnosed
No elixir prescribed
At least I will have
Some fun with a purpose
There will be a Highlights magazine
And hidden pictures will be exposed
And hilarious riddles will be memorized
And crafts concocted
And recipes learned
And Gallant
that ever faithful Gallant
contrary to everything
Goofus would influence him to do
Gallant
Will show me the way.

dalmation plantation

It's tall, it's skinny, it's crooked, it has more Strawberry Shortcake paraphernalia than you might initially expect. I think it's clear what's happened here.

reindeer games

I want to commend the National Football League for really getting into the spirit of the Christmas season by pitting the San Francisco 49ers against the New York Jets yesterday.



All that red and gold and green and white. I've never seen a field so full of holiday cheer.

dynamite

Tonight I got a Christmas tree (be assured, more to come on that) and when I was done putting it up I found myself covered in sticky, gooey sap. My next item on the to-do list was setting up my new DVD player but obviously didn't want to do it with sticky fingers mmm Wingers so I went to wash the sap off. I used soap and water and washed over and over and over but nothing. Still a sticky mess, just sort of globbing together into a tar-like substance. Then I remembered that I maybe had heard something about peanut butter that could be relevant, so I opened up my trusty jar of Jif and smeared the stuff all over. Presto! All the sap was instantly slicked off. It was a pretty good trick. But then I had to rinse the peanut butter off of my hands and so put them under the faucet and rubbed and rubbed and rubbed but the creamy delight would NOT come off. Irony! But then I got really innovative and tried washing it with soap, and wouldn't you know, it came right off. And finally my hands were clean. I think there is a lesson to be learned from all this, I don't know what it is yet, but I do know that from now on instead of playing rock-paper-scissors I am going to play sap-peanut butter-soap. I'm still working on the hand gestures for each.