The young lady who commented on my previous post gets the Ancient History prize today, folks, for taking my mind back to 1977 to Ms. Evin's French class when and where we met! That's right, I have a friend of thirty one (31!) years reading this blog. I would happily post her high school yearbook picture here but she would undoubtedly flame me for it. Here is a lady who truly knew me when.
Stacey reports that she would have her own blog if she had anything worth blogging about. Let's see -- last I remembered, you were jumping out of airplanes, and hang gliding. Sounds pretty blogworthy to me. You always were a thrill seeker, and always knew how to have a good time.
Stace, I am here looking at a scar I have on my right pointer finger. Do you remember the day when I was visiting you at the tennis club that you belonged to (where are the right emoticons when you need them?) and...
... I had had a boyfriend at the time who thought he was pretty cool,
So, I, too, thought I was cool, like him, and proceeded to tear apart with my bare hands a soda can that I had just emptied,
just like my boyfriend had done in front of me the prior weekend,
except that my hands began too close together at the center of the can? Therefore, I did end up that day with what the tennis club employee called a "semi-serious" cut. That cut probably could have used a couple of stitches that day. Except I ignored it, and wrapped it up, (it was a Friday afternoon) and kept it hidden from my parents that entire weekend, lest they ask what happened, and I would have to explain how I got the cut, which, for me, would have been impossible.
By the good grace of God, it did heal uneventfully, although slowly, from the inside out, as it is supposed to, and today I am a happy healthy well-adjusted adult. A fact to which all my more recent, Modern History friends can certainly attest.
Stacey reports that she would have her own blog if she had anything worth blogging about. Let's see -- last I remembered, you were jumping out of airplanes, and hang gliding. Sounds pretty blogworthy to me. You always were a thrill seeker, and always knew how to have a good time.
Stace, I am here looking at a scar I have on my right pointer finger. Do you remember the day when I was visiting you at the tennis club that you belonged to (where are the right emoticons when you need them?) and...
... I had had a boyfriend at the time who thought he was pretty cool,
So, I, too, thought I was cool, like him, and proceeded to tear apart with my bare hands a soda can that I had just emptied,
just like my boyfriend had done in front of me the prior weekend,
except that my hands began too close together at the center of the can? Therefore, I did end up that day with what the tennis club employee called a "semi-serious" cut. That cut probably could have used a couple of stitches that day. Except I ignored it, and wrapped it up, (it was a Friday afternoon) and kept it hidden from my parents that entire weekend, lest they ask what happened, and I would have to explain how I got the cut, which, for me, would have been impossible.
By the good grace of God, it did heal uneventfully, although slowly, from the inside out, as it is supposed to, and today I am a happy healthy well-adjusted adult. A fact to which all my more recent, Modern History friends can certainly attest.
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