Still Busted

Cute photo of Seamus and Dinah...

The finger is healing nicely, thankyouverymuch. I'm still stuck in this ridiculous splint and still trying to go through life pretending I'm left-handed. In another couple of weeks, though, this splint will be history! By then, my eyes will have stopped stinging from the last time I tried to spray a can of Lysol left-handed. Pow! Right in the kisser!

If I had known what a conversation-starter a crummy old splint in an Ace bandage would be, I would have bound my hand up years ago and used it to pick up guys while I was in college. It's just amazing -- no matter where I go, I end up striking up a conversation with someone about my busted finger. The splint attracts everyone from toddlers fascinated by an adult with a "boo-boo" to outdoorsy-type guys in flannels eager to relate their own misadventures and share the pain. People still seem vaguely disappointed by my story, though, so I have resolved to not tell the truth any longer. This week I think I'll say I rescued a kitten from a fire escape on the 40th story of a burning building. Hey, do we even have any 40-story buildings north of Boston?

You Like Me! You Really, Really Like Me!

Actually, I owe it all to Dale. Back in March when we brought our respective clubs to Meet the Breeds in Saco (Dale as POC, myself as BCCME), she got to talking with the editor of Downeast Dog News. DDN, for those of you who don't live in Maine, is a monthly newspaper-format publication dedicated to all things doggy going on in the State of Maine.

Dale has a particular talent for drawing people out. After schmoozing with Holly (the editor of DDN), she determined that what Holly really needed was more writers to help with articles -- and so she recommended me. After some months of off-and-on conversations and emails and sending of links to samples and suchlike, Holly and I have finally been able to meet, talk about some topics, and get things started.

I'm pleased to say that I now am a member of the dreaded media elite, since I am a freelance writer for DDN. I now have to get some articles together and my first two are obedience-related, so Dale and Sue might be asked to grant interviews one of these days. If I bring a camera, can I be referred to as "paparazzi" too??

And This Day in Yarn...

I finally finished Joyce's Tofutsies socks and shipped them off to her. She loves them, and doesn't care that they're fraternal twins instead of identical ones. That will still bother me until approximately forever, though. Joyce, however, loves the heck out of them. That makes the effort worthwhile.

As for the Sockotta socks, Sock #2 is still a cuff, but I'm about an inch away from the heel turn. I can't knit too quickly, but I can still knit -- so I'm making progress.

Since I've been lusting after some sweater patterns I've been seeing in the catalogs of late, I thought it would be a mighty good idea to at least finish the one I have in progress. I picked it up and tried to knit, but quit after about a row and a half. Since my hand is still in a splint, I can't hold heavy needles properly, and the three working fingers all feel strained from trying to adapt. This might not spell good news for sweater production, but I've been working on socks like crazy. They're light, and I can hold them without too much stress on the fingers.

Maybe it's seasonal and maybe it's not, but with the coming of fall, I find myself even more consumed by yarn lust and the desire for some new knitting projects. I've had to go on a yarn diet simply because I have no place to fit any more yarn -- so in order to acquire anything new, I need to keep on knitting until there's a visible hole in the current stash pile. I half-satisfied my need for Something by pulling out a skein of Mountain Colors Soxie (in the Caribbean colorway, which more reminds me of the colors on a peacock) and winding that into a ball. I placed it on the top of the yarns in my sock queue, partly for inspiration and partly because I really, really want to work on something I haven't been looking at for months on end. Maybe I'll fool myself by pulling out all of the other yarns in queue and replacing them with different sock yarns from the stash. Then, everything will look all shiny and new, and I'll be inspired to knit a wide swath through the collection. Sounds good, huh?

Tails of Good Karma

Between Meet the Breeds in Saco back in March and yesterday's event in Portland, BCCME has done its share of community service/education for the year 2007.

For those of you not familiar with Portland, Paws is one of the main fundraisers for the Animal Refuge League of Greater Portland. They hold their "walkathon" event in Deering Oaks Park in downtown Portland, and they invite dog rescues and dog-related businesses from all over the state to set up meet-and-greet tables.

Pat (the VP for BCCME) and I and our designated BCCME "show and tell" dog, Dinah, set up in the park yesterday morning. We came armed with the Beardie Rescue banner, information about Beardie Rescue and about BCCME, a DVD of Beardie photos, and Pat's portable DVD player. We set the EZ-Up up, parked the table and chairs, got Dinah settled in a crate, and prepared to schmooze our crowd.

We actually met some Beardie people -- one woman with a Beardie mix whose front half was Beardie and whose back half was Collie (I'm not kidding!), another couple who lost a Beardie and were interested in getting to know some Beardie people (maybe)... and even the daughter-in-law of Dinah's uncle Badger Burfitt's owner in Virginia! We shook hands, kissed babies, and visited with members of other rescues. Dinah enjoyed being the subject of much admiration, though I had to tell a few people that she was for "show and tell" only, and not up for adoption. The Eastern Maine Agility Club set up next to us, and Dinah was eyeing the A-frame for a long while -- but by the time we were free to run their course, she was just too tired from entertaining all day.

It was a lovely day for a dog walk in the park -- especially one that came with free Starbucks coffee. We were all pretty much worn out from entertaining by the time things ended, though. Back at Val and Pat's house, Dinah got to see Her Trav and bounce around with him. Trav did his pirate impression for me ("arrrrrrr") and nibbled my nose. Of course, their other Beardies, Maddie and Mac, thought I came to see them. Don't tell them that I went to see Val!

South Park Mac vs. PC

Bwa ha ha ha! The only thing that could have been better is if the PC were played by Mr. Hankey, the Christmas Poo!

Busted.

Considering all of the stuff I used to do as a kid, it's probably a miracle that I didn't sustain at least one broken bone. I'd climb trees, jump off of large rocks, dive, play contact sports, took horseback riding lessons... and the worst injury I sustained was a sprained wrist when I slipped on the ice while skating. I split my head and other appendages open on rocks, sustained multiple wasp and hornet stings, and probably spent the first several years of life with perpetual scabbed knees -- with nary a trip to the emergency room.

Maybe that makes it even sillier to admit that I broke my right pinky finger just falling off the street a couple of days ago. Yes, that's right -- I fell off the street. I wasn't even drinking at the time! The town has been repaving some of the crummiest sections of plowed-up pavement around town, a fact I was well aware of when I decided to take The Lovely One for a little walk down the street to the river. The newly-paved road rises quite a ways above the shoulder in some places now, as much as 6-9 inches.

I wasn't watching where I was going, quite frankly. Like Wile E. Coyote going off a cliff, I stepped off the pavement into thin air, realized my mistake a half-second too late, and then succumbed to the pull of gravity. Unlike Wile E., however, I plopped face-first into a stretch of newly-laid pavement -- rummy, rummy. The leash flew out of my hands, and Dinah skittered down a nearby driveway. Thank heavens there were no cars and no witnesses. The judges would have given me a 9.5 for the dive.

When I picked myself up, Dinah was my first concern. She came right back after I called her, and I caught her leash. In spite of being covered neck-to-knees with fresh tar, I briefly considered continuing the walk -- but my hands and knees were scraped, one hand was bruised and hurt like hell, and my dignity was wounded beyond repair. We turned around and headed for home.

I changed my tarry clothes and scrubbed the tar off those parts of me that didn't hurt too much to scrub. My right pinkie was purple, but I chalked that up to a bad sprain. Greg and I dropped over to visit Dale and Val for burgers, veggies, and beer, and to smooch on their puppies for a while. My finger hurt badly and looked worse, but I was fine as long as I didn 't bump it on anything (dog heads, corn on the cob, beer bottles...).

The next morning, it was no better. I decided to spend the morning at the local urgent care center instead of at rally-roo -- for which I owe Seamus yet another apology. The nice nurses and techs took me in, looked me over, took some X-rays, and introduced me to the doctor. He showed me the break in my pinky on the films and splinted the thing for me. Armed with instructions on how to take care of my finger and whom to call once the country opens up for business again on Tuesday, I climbed into the car and faced my first challenge: How to get my car keys into the ignition while encased in a splint that extended beyond the length of my fingers. (Stick them in left-handed and try awkwardly to start the car with your left hand while leaning over. Fun, fun, fun -- and so graceful-looking, too.)

Greg called as I was attempting to start the car, which made stopping to answer the phone an adventure in itself. When I explained where I was and why, he mentioned that two of his favorite church choir members had invited us to their place on Moody Beach for lunch. Since I was just around the corner from the church, I agreed to meet him -- but only if he'd drive us to the beach. He agreed.

We had a delightful time visiting on the beach -- took a walk, enjoyed a nice grilled lunch, smooched on their little Yorkie, and stayed around just chatting and laughing for much of a perfect sunny afternoon. They've sold their house on the beach and will be moving to a newer house in town in November, so this is one of the few remaining summer days they have left before they go. They say that after 15 years in the old house, they won't miss the view -- but I know I would.

Anyway, I get to visit the orthopedist tomorrow and come home wearing something -- whether it's a splint, a cast, or "buddy tape" -- but all I hope for is that whatever contraption I get to wear will allow me to take showers, start my car, and fasten my bra (which I had to ask Greg to do for me). Being able to hold a fork or a pen would be a nice bonus.