This is a present for Jamal.  It’s weird, because I always thought he was pretty squeamish about blood and guts, but he wanted to see it.

It’s a different kind of gross now, more oozy and pus-filled, but I thought the shiny red was pretty so I took a picture right after it happened.

My hands are gross, and not just because of the skin-drying soap and rough paper towels they have in the work bathrooms. No, I pulled a Princess Grace on Saturday and did a full lay-out on the sidewalk during a run. I caught myself on my palms, but my trajectory was moving forward, so I did a good amount of skidding. It was near an intersection, and a car was just pulling up. He made an eye-contact acknowledgment of my situation, presumably to see if I was okay. I was, pretty much (although that marked the end of my run, even though I was hoping to get another 20 minutes in). Fortunately, Denny was with me, so the driver didn’t feel too compelled to come, you know, discuss it with me. That would have been really embarrassing.

The weekend got better after that, though. I went to Ames to see my mom’s dance recital and also got to see my friend Emily, so that was fun. Ames has a really good new Thai restaurant called The Spice. I recommend the duck pad ka prow.

Now it is Monday, and my right hand is pretty usable (though scabby). My left hand is not in such good shape, but it’s showing signs of progress. It’s a sad state of affairs when a change in ooze color is a positive thing, no?