Sting

My blogging has been a bit sporadic lately.  It happens throughout the year.  Either Hub and I are away for some r&r, nothing in particular has caught my eye or there is so much it's hard to focus, or real life intervenes.

Such is the case today.  I sit at my keyboard typing with one hand because the other is about the size of a boxing glove.

It happened yesterday.  A perfect work-in-the yard Saturday.  The overnight temperatures had moderated to the point I felt safe planting some bedding plants.   The day went well.  I felt mellow from the fresh air, sunshine and exercise and decided to do one more bed before calling it a day.

Oh, well.  I don't know if it was a Bumbler or a Yellow Jacket, but whatever, my messing in the bed was not welcome.  Hence the boxing glove sized hand.  Hub, being the perfect gentleman, fixed the cold compresses, cooked dinner and did the dishes.  He didn't even complain when I hit my own bed ridiculously early.  There was nothing on the tube, I was too uncomfortable to read and my jammies were soaked from spilling ice water on them.

Things are better this morning though I'm making more typos than usual.  I'm going to trade today's chores for tomorrow's - laundry.  It's not too taxing.  Hopefully the hand will be closer to normal size and the fingers will at least bend.

It's okay.  It will let the G8 and the NATO conferences play out.  I've been cheered to read that former CNN and NBC anchor and reporter, Campbell Brown, has taken the president to task for condescending to women.  And just maybe I'll get the dirt out from under my nails before I have to start again.

If this blogger is to be, I must remember not to Bee!