I Love a Good Bruise

Which is good, because I get them all the time. I'm clumsy, and I run into things and fall down a lot. Like Chevy Chase, but shorter and less rich. But it makes me feel like my bruises are proof that I am up and around and doing things, because just sitting still on the couch doesn't mark you up any, now, does it?

This weekend's bruises are a result of gardening at Tracey's and Chris' house. I may have mentioned that I planted some tomatoes in my own yard recently, but that's about the extent of my gardening experience. My sister and Chris own an actual house with an actual yard, where Tracey is now enacting an actual Gardening Vision that involves a lot of hole-digging and dirt-moving and dandelion-demolishing. That last one is where I came in: I waged full-scale war on the dandelions colonizing Tracey's front lawn, and as a result, I am boasting a quarter-sized bruise on my palm. It's not comfortable, but I actually don't mind it--gardening, as it turns out, is actually rather strenuous, good exercise, like playing soccer, and this sort of makes me feel like I was involved in something heavy-duty like a contact sport.


Also, Happy Birthday to Nicole! And hooray for Sian, who will be here soon!