To Whom It May Interest . . .
Please excuse jeanne herself for her l-o-n-g absence here. She’s been moving, you see, and if you’ve ever moved, you know how all-consuming and incredibly overwhelming such an act can be.
She’s also been sick for over a month, I’m sorry to report. It started with a drippy nose which went into sinus headache which progressed into sinus infection which lingers on even now as her first ear infection in decades. Ordinarily a healthy one, this stretch of over a month rendered her nearly completely devoid of energy. She slept more than she has since that nasty bout with the flu in second grade, and while some said it’s precisely what she needed, jeanne herself wasted precious energy fussing because all around her was undeniable evidence of all that needed to be done.
Sound not being able to get through and register in her right ear has created several humorous situations, I must say. The dizziness aside, jeanne herself never realized how difficult it is to determine directions with only one working ear. And that’s all I’ll say about that.
She hasn’t had any stitching adventures to share because of that nasty bout with the fingernail polish remover. You see, back in December, jeanne herself opted to kick off the holiday season by making good use of the spa gift certificate her hubbie surprised her with earlier in the year. It included a pedicure, and since she would soon be cruising to warmer weather, it made perfect sense to commit a girley-girl act and don the reddest of red polish on her soon-to-be-exposed toes.
Things got busy when she got home, and I’m embarrassed beyond description to tell you that it was February before she took the time to sit on the edge of the tub and attempt removal of that still redder-than-red-they-weren’t-kidding-about-the-color-never-fading polish. The three fingers on her right hand – the thumb, forefinger, and middle finger – still bear the brunt of damage from wielding those acetone-drenched cotton balls. (Bits of polish stubbornly refuse to leave this one particular toe, so jeanne herself – knowing that exposed-toe-season will soon be upon us – is prepared to tell people it’s where the toilet paper holder fell on her foot a while back. She’s even practicing a limp to further corroborate her story.) The first few days she couldn’t feel anything with those fingertips. That eventually morphed into a coating of thick yellowish-brown skin that is still peeling. Though the sandpapery feel is wonderful when dragging them across where it itches, she says, it’s less than desirable when those fingers encounter fabric or thread. Let me tell you, she has ruined more clothes from the threads unintentionally pulled by her affected fingers. Though she tried to cover the three rough fingertips with everything from bandages to tape to those rubber paper handlers from the office supply store in hopes of being able to touch and guide thread, she consistently met with a miserable lack of success.
Just last night, however, while unpacking her daily quota of boxes, I am delighted to say that jeanne herself happened upon her pedegg thingie and, after repeated rubbings, her fingers – though sore – show marked improvement.
Know that she is finally feeling better (even if she can’t hear worth a damn) and is quite hopeful that her fingers will soon allow her return to the playground of cloth. Until then, she looks forward to getting reacquainted with those of you who are smart enough to (a) forego the polish or (b) have somebody else take it off for you.
jeanne herself’s e-mom
jeanne herself’s inner mom
jeanne herself’s secretary
jeanne herself’s virtual alter-ego spokeswoman gal who shall remain nameless