Wednesday, August 12, 2009- The Day I got Leprosy

Wednesday, August 12, 2009.

As I was taking a shower this morning, I noticed 2 things.
1) The burn mark (in the shape of a ring) on my right index finger turned white in the heat and the water. You know how your skin loses its color when it's dead, but it still looks the same color because it's next to the rest of your skin? (Does that even make sense? Is that even relevant? Point in case: My skin was white in a ring shape, and it was freaky.)
2) As I was looking at the burn mark, I noticed that on my middle finger, there was some brown stuff near the side of the nail, and some white stuff under it. My very first thought was that it looked like my skin was rotting. Following that thought, I realized (because I was completely calm and did not panic after realizing my skin was rotting) that the white stuff under the brown stuff must be the already dead and decayed skin. Yes, blog viewers, I had successfully- in my infinite knowledge- diagnosed myself with leprosy. That was my precise thought that moment- I had leprosy.

I, in my panicy state, threw my hand into the water, and the dirty stuff washed off. But that's how my morning started on Wednesday.

Broken Glass

The other day, I was walking through the parking lot with a couple of guys. We're just walking and talking- you know, normal stuff. Suddenly, I feel something scratch my toe- you know the feeling, where there's a rock in your shoe, right? Well, this didn't quite feel like an ordinary rock; this one was pointy. So I tell them "Wait up a minute, there's something in my shoe." And I take off my shoe, hop around on one foot, and shake out the shoe. Instead of a small rock, a little shard of glass falls out.

Yeah, it was sorta freaky.

Anyway, have a good weekend.

Bee Stings

Yesterday, I was taking care of this little girl, who (I think) is going into either first or second grade. Anyway, she was outside playing in a soccer field. She and her friends screamed when she saw a bee and tried to kill it by stepping on it. I tell them to leave the bees alone.
They, being intelligent females, decide to try to catch the bees with cups. I take their cups away. (It's a rather dramatic story with a rather dramatic struggle, but I'll skip that. It ends with them smuggling a cup and running away from me.) Then they find a shoe and start beating the bees. I take the shoe away. They get the shoe back.
So I'm looking down, entertaining a kindergartner, and then I hear a girl cry...

She got stung by a bee.

She starts hopping up and down and yelling, even when I tell her to lie down. So we hobble over back into the room, and she lies down (finally!) and I roll up her pant leg with a credit card to scoop out the stinger and...

There was no stinger.

And that was one of the small highlights of my day.

My Fake Arm

Yesterday, I was asked if my arm was fake (by like a fourth grader). I told him no. He kept insisting that it was fake, so I pulled up my sleeve and showed him where it attached to my body. So he gives up in that department.

A minute later he asks me if my leg is fake.

Don't little kids say the darnest things?