Ridiculous: An Absurd Day or I Swear That Nail Came from Nowhere

FIRST: thanks for all the answers to the ALL PLAY: Sleep. I'm so glad you participate and share with me and everyone else! The respondents always give great answers and tell good stories.

On to the Day. Keep in mind I'm not upset, probably because I am feeling really good about getting back to painting and excusing myself from a couple of jobs that were not headed in directions I was not interested in.

My glasses broke.

We had lunch at the world's worst McDonalds. No ice, cashier wrong about not having large cups, cold fries. I made a NO ICE sign for the machine myself.I it hadn't been for the ridiculously long and slow express lines, I'd have bought a bag of ice and laid it out for everyone. The situation really did call for a Mentos approach.

I was knocking down the nasty old shed in the backyard, using both the ax and the sledge. I got one whole wall to fall down with a spectacular boom and crash, and a cloud of dirt. It was beautiful. I really do enjoy seeing things go boom.
Summer came out and wanged at one of the walls.. I decided to swat out a couple studs, the idea being to see if I could get the whole thing to collapse.
Yes, I know, that's really a job for a rope. A job you stand twenty feet away from and pull.
I thought the nails came away with the cheap-ass sheathing. I have no idea where that nail came from, but it was there. The stud i hit came out like a tooth, and started to fall in my direction. Still holding the sledge, I tried to dodge. The stud hit me anyway, and the one damn nail in it  caught me about four inches above my right elbow, driven by the weight of the stud.

That shit sure does hurt.

Still holding the sledge in my right hand, I said to Summer in an impatient "that fucking nail" voice , "Fun's over. I'm hurt."
"Whuh?" says Summer.
"Inside. I'm hurt." I started to walk, the the patio, still carrying that fucking sledge in my right hand, at the end my my hurt arm, holding my left hand over the puncture.
Summer started to follow me, and I sent her back for the ax. I would've sent her for the hammer, too, but it was under the fallen side.  You just don't leave tools in the yard. That's what I was thinking.

I put the sledge and ax up before I went in. King doctored me, and smirked at me for working when it was too dark.

It's a hole as spectacular as the one I got on my left forearm when Yuki bit me when I got in her way when she was fighting with Mama Dog. That bite left a divot in my muscle. I cried when Yuki bit me, it scared me, it hurt, and she looked like she hated me, even though she was just scared and crazy.
This was pretty much stupid-funny. Hurts like a fucker, but, as with almost everything that happens, I see it as something to be saved for a future story. Now I know how inconvenient a wound in the upper arm is! Yay!

I'm trying to figure out to carry on my evening, since I'd planned on scanning background paintings, and starting some armatures for three maquettes.
 
Well, this is all I can manage. The pain is grosssing me out, and I have no leftover Vicodin  to make me not give a shit. But I do have a wine cooler, and a left arm.

Later, my pets! Stay away from falling lumber.

Can I Sit With You?

I contributing to an anthology called "Can I Sit With You?"

A good friend of mine, Shannon des Roches Rosas, is collecting essays
about delightful (read "Holy Cow, I was glad to escape school!")
experiences for a book called "Can I Sit With You?" The proceeds
benefit the Redwood City, CA SpecEdPTA program.

You know I am not a fan of print projects to raise money. I am a
PayPal gal. Understanding that, I hope you can see that if I'm
contributing to a print benefit, it must be a good one, one worth
doing. (Printing through Lulu.com so profits don't get 'et by printing
and distro bills is one of the reasons I'm not worried about "profit"
disappearing.)

First, I will be doing the cover and a two-page comic story for it.
You all know I don't do covers or stories for ding dongs or shysters.
Second, the editor, Shannon, is a good friend. She is also the parent
of a son with autism. She is also an upstanding human being. She's
been blogging about her son since 2003.
(http://shroomhead.blogspot.com/)
Third, the idea here isn't just to raise money, but help make a book
that reaches out to kids (and adults) who felt isolated during their
school years for being Different. It's the kind of book most of us
wish we had as kids.

From the mission statement:
"Dealing with the other kids at school was complicated even if you
didn't have a label. For those of us who were socially awkward,
culturally juxtaposed, same-sex attracted, gender-cocooned,
income-challenged, "weird" sibling-saddled, differently abled,
atypical looking, religiously isolated, on the autism spectrum, or who
somehow just didn't fit in, it could be brutal. Even though most of us
eventually developed coping strategies, grew up, left school behind,
and tried not to think about how much that time in our life sucked.

We want [kids] to see that their angst is both universal and timeless.
We want them to know that other people totally understand."

The whole dang Mission Statement is here:
http://canisitwithyou.blogspot.com/2007/09/can-i-sit-with-you.html

Submission Guidelines are here:
http://canisitwithyou.blogspot.com/2007/09/submission-guidelines_5828.html

I hope the writers amongst us will take a crack at it, and everyone will help push Can I Sit With You? when it goes on sale in November 2007.