Museums and Fingers

I'm going to an art museum. *Dances around with joy* Cody's art teacher is taking her students on a field trip to the Brooks Museum of Art in Memphis next month. Cody just happened to mention to her that I might like to go along as a chaperon, so she sent me an e-email asking if I would. Of course, I said yes. Cody and I have been wanting to go there for a long time. Best part about it is that since it is a school trip, our admission will be free.



Yesterday's and today's actually. I think I might know what this pattern will be. Here's a hint: Easter is this Sunday.

You may wonder why I call this my crooked finger. Well, it is slightly twisted, though not so much that it is glaringly obvious. When I was in Navy boot camp, I got it crushed in a fire hose. Being more on the paranoid side back then than I am now, I was afraid that if I went to sick call, they would put me on medical hold. I didn't want to spend one day more in basic training than I had to, so I just ignored my injury. I think it might have been fractured. It swelled up to nearly twice its size and stayed swollen for several days, stiff and sore for several weeks. I eventually regained full use of it, but it remained just a little crooked. In retrospect, I probably should have gone to sick call, but no lasting harm was done.

Maybe someday I'll tell you about the time I think I broke my leg. I don't know for sure, because I never went to sick call...

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