Thursday, December 9, 2010

Superglue is not my friend. It is imbued with fiendish properties best left to horror novels.

For example:

Last night we decorated our Christmas Tree. One of my daughter's favorite ornaments was broken and she asked me to fix it. Well, technically she didn't. But I wanted to fix it because a miniature plastic Barbie in a ballgown just doesn't look quite right with one hand broken off at the wrist. She looks like the latest victim from the movie "Saw IV" and who wants to think of that on a Christmas tree.

So, I attempted to glue her poor little appendage back on and instead I cemented a permanent relationship between two of my fingers and her gracious little plastic hand.

"Oh, look! I'm shaking hands with Barbie", I joked until I realized I would not be able to get the hand out from between my fingers without losing a significant amount of flesh way past the surface tissue.

So here I am. Plastic Barbie hand glued to fingers. Fingers glued to each other. It was one of my brilliant signature moves.

I called in reinforcements and my husband obligingly, and eventually, found the bottle of acetone and Barbie and I parted ways after much amusement to my family and my own personal humiliation.

I had started to gather my shredded dignity about me when the owner of aforementioned Barbie ornament inspected my fingers for damage and stated, "Well at least you didn't glue your nose shut, like last year!"

Superglue is not my friend.

Friday, December 3, 2010

The bear facts, part I

I fed a bear when I was a kid. Really. A wild, Alaskan Black bear. At the time this did not seem unusual to me. Given the ensuing decades and a small amount of reflection I realize things could have ended very badly for me back then. But they didn't.

I did scare my Uncle Dick half to death though. When I have properly framed this episode in my life, I will update my blog. But for now, picture me at about 8 years old with a fish in one hand and a bear two feet away, on a lovely summer afternoon along the river.

Sea Glass Memories

For the tide of man is but one wave that washes upon these shores, for his deeds, and fears, and battles will wash away. Ground and polish...