With the extra added touch of flying bras. Cute. I also did the posters, postcards and display cases. See Cover done for..
Photograph by Miklas Njor. (is it OK to admit I'm only really happy with one of the roses? Colors, ok, the rest I could work on for another week.)

It's now a long time ago since I was in Boston to attend Caff's wedding but I still haven't posted all my photos. I really loved visiting there, one day we went whale watching. It was Miklas, the über-tourist who suggested it and I happily joined, forgetting that I get pretty sea sick. Ugh, it was rough. (pun!)

After a sweet wee land bird decided to sit on my hand while we were 25 miles out to sea, I figured it was all worth it.

The whales, humpbacks, we're curious about us too and swam really close to the boat and even underneath the boat which was pretty wicked awesome. Note: everyone in Boston says "Wicked awesome" all the time.

Also, soon after this, a whale breached not far from the boat. That was, indeed, wicked awesome. A+++++ would get seasick again!

I didn't post much about our trip to Boston, guess I got caught up with work when I returned. I loved it, Perle disliked the food a lot but we did discover that she likes pepperoni pizza. Phew.

This was in a food court somewhere in the theatre district of Boston. I can't recall what we did that day. Probably shopping - Miklas scored like a bandit in every store we went to. Annoying!

Good thing Dabitch likes pizza too. ;)

Igår var det auktion på Auktionskompaniet när jag och Perle seglade förbi. Jag kände att det ryckte i budfingrarna, det kanske fanns nåt roligt till exempel nummer 79 ett "HÖRNSKÅP, art deco, 1930-tal. Fanerad. Välvd front med jalusidörrar i form av bokrad". Men jag har lovat mig själv att hålla mig undan efter att ha klubbat hem den pampigaste kristallkronan jag sett, ovan. Miklas höll närapå att krevera när han insåg att jag fått den. "Den är för stor!" Nej det var den inte, men herrans tung och när Miklas balanserade på en stege lyftandes jättetung och otympligt bred krona upp mot taket lyckades han väsa i utandningen "du är skyldig mig så mycket för det här, pust, flämt, gniiii". Det var det trots allt värt, för väl på plats höll till och med han med om at den är bara så jätteläcker.

Vi gillar den! weeee! Det blir liksom inte matsal om man inte har lite kristall som stänker glitter på guldränderna i tapeten. Jaja, vi skall få färdigt trappan snart. Snart.

Right, so I no longer wear a cast, which is a tremendous relief because at some point that chafing of the cast hurt more than the finger. Plus it did nothing to deter idiots from running into me or pushing me or generally just hurt my already-in-pain arm. They should make casts in day-glo colors so that people know to stay the heck away from broken limbs. See, I was shopping with Perle on a crowded Saturday, leaning my cast-arm on the stroller as it gets a little heavy to wave in the air like you just don't care all day, when someone who thought I wasn't walking fast enough literally shoved me out of the way. I had Perle walking beside me on the right, and a pram full of groceries when this happened - and if there's something that kicks me into instinct-only-gear it's when a bunch of people make a highway between me and my daughter. So I lean over to hold her hand with my right and yank the stroller with me with my cast-arm, just as someone from that highway of people tries to pass me on the left and pushes said arm or rather slams into my arm full-force. Reflex makes me bend my busted fingers around the handle in an effort to hold on to everything. Ouch. Not a good reflex.
Bad news, this little incident not only hurts but has me wake up every night for a week until the doctor can take a look, I thought I had snapped my tendon again and was scared we'd have to start over.

My stitches. Purdy ain't they?

Finally I meet the doc and the physical therapist on Wednesday, they both conclude that indeed, the finger doesn't bend quite as well as it did the day the stitches came off, but luckily it still bends just wee teeeny tiny bit - so the tendon is still attached. *phew* However, bad scarring is keeping it from bending any further, and I'll have to work longer with my therapy now, I can't count on full movement until summer. Drats. That's six months longer for me to heal because some jerk couldn't just wait a second to pass a mom with her hand in a cast and her 2-year old. Thanks, stressed out stranger.

To erase the horror of that stitch-scar image, here's what a two-year old looks like when she's trying to dig her way to China.

Tuesday I spent all morning in the operating room, having some surgeon reattach my ring finger tendon to the place where it should be, instead of having it curled up in the middle of my hand where it apparently was. No need to go under for this type of surgery, a local numb-my-entire-arm anaesthetic would do, so I was looking forward to witnessing the surgery. Alas, they gave me a calmative/sedative before the operation, and whatever that was it was powerful stuff which sent me straight to sleeping like a log and having terribly confusing dark dreams. yuck.

So I woke up with my hand wrapped up like this. The nurses and doctors keep asking which hand is my strong hand and I always reply that I'm ambidextrous, as I can draw with both hands. I never realized how much I do rely on my left hand until now that I can't use it, I keep trying to pick things up, open doors, unlock stuff, grab cutlery, tie shoes and all sorts with this cast monster. Do'h! Miklas loves the comedy though, as I can't seem to stop doing dumb things such as scratch my nose or wipe my forehead with the painfully heavy cast hand - resulting in a stereo-Ow since both my hand and my poor forhead hurts. I'm an old dog who can't learn new tricks. *scratch* - ow, ow!

When you see an 1100 pound pumpkin, you are obligated to pose. It's the law.

....and the obligatory, "wait we're not ready yet" shot.

This is for a mate of mine who said" Dabitch dahling, I never see you these days. All the pictures of that kid of yours. What the hell are YOU doing these days? What color is your hair now?"

Well, I guess that's what they meant when they said your life will never be the same again. For example, I can't seem to a find a recent shot of me that doesn't have "that kid of mine" in it as well. Also, I haven't dyed my hair any funky colors in years. I barely have time to shower, forget three-hours dying sessions every three weeks!

So yeah, there's me Dabitch at age three months and to the right Perle at the same age. Weeeeeeeeeeee! I guess I was always having a laugh. ;)

In the interest of not freaking random and most likely lost visitors out with gooey icky scary closeups of my navel pre-op and post-op. I send sugary sweet pink and blue distracting dashes of lurve to you all with this image of the cherry blossoms in our yard. Cool?

Ho-kay. Now all ye who are not scared of biohazard tattooed navels with stitches in them, you may proceed inside. But let the record show, that I did warn you and I tried bribing you with cute, and you daredevils didn't listen.