Quick Bits

I cut my hair. To be exact, Pete cut my hair. I love Pete. He's the perfect man for me. The perfect man to cut my hair, that is. I had him cut about 4" off and had him angle it a bit so the front is a tad longer than the back. I've wanted this haircut for ages, but every time the stylist cuts it a little different than what I had wanted. When Pete finished, I looked in the mirror and saw exactly what I had envisioned. I love Pete. I love my haircut. Life is good.

Last weekend, my youngest brother, K, came for a visit and brought his new girlfriend. So, I spent a lot of time with my family, which is always nice. Saturday afternoon, just after lunch, we took the three little kids to the park by the high school. Us big kids played "baseball". Really, we had one pitcher, one catcher, one batter, and the rest of us were outfielders. No bases, no running, no keeping score. We took turns being batter, catcher, and pitcher and each batter hit the ball a few times before we changed. Well, one time I decided to try pitching to my brother J. This was incredibly foolish on my part because I can't throw worth a darn. I felt bad for J because he had to suffer through a lot of wild pitches. I also felt bad for the catcher who had to chase a lot of wild pitches and for the outfielders who basically had nothing to do while waiting for me to get the ball across the "plate". I finally scooted up 'til I was fairly close to the plate (a few feet or so, I'm a horrible judge of distance) and started giving J some pitches he could hit. Well, one time he hit the ball right into my stomach. Boy, did that sting! Fortunately, my stomach is well-padded, so there was no lasting damage done, I hope, but I have a nasty-looking bruise the size of a softball (quite the misnomer I discovered) on my stomach. It's sad because it hurts and because it's in a place I don't want to show anyone, so no one can see how horrible it looks and pity me as much as I want to be pitied. J felt really bad, but it wasn't his fault; a) he didn't aim the ball at me, and b) I was really close. On the plus side, the two times I was at bat I actually had several really good hits! I've always been horrible at baseball and used to strike out every time up to bat, so I was very pleased.

I had a dream last night that I got shot while walking on my lastest walking route. It was so realistic - the streets, the houses, everything looked just like they do when I go for my walk. In my dream, I was walking along and felt a pinch in my thigh, then I heard the gunshot, then I felt the pain. I blacked out (in my dream) and came to in a hospital room. The ER nurse had recognized me and had called my mom. The doctor was explaining to her that the surgery had gone okay, but it may take awhile for me to walk again, if ever, since the bullet had done a lot of damage. I thought a lot about how I was going to work and get around and just live my life if I couldn't walk. It was so vivid that when I woke up I was extremely relieved that I could walk.

That's it. Everything in my life is going well... the same, but well.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!