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And I could shake this static

Several weeks ago I started keeping a real journal. On paper and everything! My archivist brain was sad about not having anywhere to put my artifacts, like museum ticket stubs and receipts from delicious dinner. So I bought the large version of my favorite Moleskine, with nice big pages between which to store artifacts, and I’ve been writing in there. I intended it to fill a different purpose than this site; I just want to use it to recap the things for which I am keeping artifacts, like when folks visit from out of town and we go do Seattle-things, or we have a particularly nice dinner. (OK, I will just admit it: the delicious dinner I have now mentioned twice was at Le Pichet, with which I am now obsessed.) I also thought that maybe becoming more dedicated to chronicling things would make me write here more often. Alas and alack, this has not been the case. I apologize, if any of you are still out there …

In ongoing and surely fascinating toe news, it is not broken. I did get to have exciting x-rays, though! It was fun, though I felt silly for making a big deal over a toe. There was no definitive toe injury, it just hurt when I came back from a longish (for me) run. Other toes hurt, too, so I didn’t think anything of it, but then the other toes got better, and the big toe did not get better. So I had x-rays and they probably stood around and laughed at the crazy hypochondriac lady when they examined them. I went back in to a regular doctor a week later because fine, I can accept it not being broken, but it still hurts, y’all. The (cute!) doctor did various amusing things like poke it, push it, pull it, twist it all around, and apply a tuning fork (for serious!) to it. All of these things let him to confirm its non-brokenness, but he, at least, understood the “it still hurts” aspect of the situation: he prescribed me a whole bunch of Advil, which seems to be helping.
The best part is that a couple of days after that, I dropped what I think must have been a 2.5-pound weight on my other big toe. Fortunately I have learned enough to diagnose it as not broken all by myself, even without a tuning fork.

I picked the first tomato from my Very Own Garden earlier this week. It was delicious but its savoring was somewhat lost on G., who is having some bizarro heartburn issues that did not permit him to have more than a bite of it. Hooray, more tomato with salt for me!
I also have a million billion more cucumbers than I could ever possibly eat, and I can eat a lot of cucumbers. Please notify me if you want cucumbers. Please please take the cucumbers.

(Song: “I Wish I Was A Girl,” Counting Crows. I wish Adam Duritz understood the subjunctive.)

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