My stitches are out! The Dr. took them out on the 21st, last Friday, and said I could go without a bandage, could get the hand wet, could start doing exercises to strengthen my hand and regain mobility and all that. So – yay! Within a couple of days the stitched area had dried up (it was kind of creepy and pale and a bit swollen from the Neosporin and bandage on it constantly) and for the last few days it's been starting to peel. My scar looks like how our lizard looks when she starts to shed. And it itches! It itches like crazy.
I'm doing a lot of normal things again, and two days ago we went to NH for the day so Bill and the kids could go skiing and I could hang out in the lodge and read and I actually did a very small bit of crocheting. Two shortish rows for a hat. And I stopped because my left hand was going numb/tingling/not happy. My right hand, I am ecstatic to say, was not bothered at all. I also stopped because I don't want to overdo it with the right hand, either. So there we are. And I didn't do any crocheting yesterday but I may try a bit again today. Yay!
This was the sky on the way home from NH, by the way. The photo doesn't do it justice.
I woke up with an incredibly stiff neck on the left side and it's VERY annoying. Just wanted to share that.
It didn't help, though. My neck is still stiff.
Oh! Christmas. Well for Christmas Eve we had my husband's nephew over and his three little boys, which was fun because they're, well, little, and cute, and easily entertained by Otis (the kitten) chasing a little scrap of fabric on a stick while everyone waits for the Yorkshire Pudding to finish cooking and for dinner to be served.
Since I'm slightly out of commission, I had some help making the dinner – Julia made the Yorkshire pudding pretty much solo, with just me telling her what to do. And – best part – we saved some of the fat from the Roast Beef and made a second huge Yorkshire the next day. Because there are never enough starchy leftovers. It's either the stuffing is all gone the day after Thanksgiving, or the Yorkshire Pudding is all gone after Christmas. This year we had plenty.
Christmas Day was a departure from the norm – we went to my sister's house for breakfast and hung out there for a while. She and family have moved into a beautiful new house with wide plank hardwood floors, exposed beams, coziness and warmth. She went happily crazy with the holiday decorating with beautiful touches everywhere and I really didn't want to go back to my own house.
But we did and had a lazy afternoon of leftovers and laziness.
I haven't done a whole heck of a lot of writing over the past couple of years, and I can feel it. Stuff isn't flowing. don't know what to type here or how to say it. It all feels rusty and, well, kind of like my stiff neck. I'm not the same person I was when I was writing here all the time. I don't take pictures of the food I cook, unless it's really, really awesome. I cook for a living, and to write about cooking now seems…pretentious. I've learned that I know some things, but there's a lot I don't know, and plenty of people who are certainly way better at all this stuff than I am. So writing about something old me cooked and elaborating on all the steps or whatever…who am I to tell anyone what to do or how to do it? And the carpal tunnel messed with my hands so much that I stopped making all those fun cakes. Stopped decorating cookies. Nothing to write about there. And my kids are getting older and so I am respecting their privacy now by not posting pictures. Well, Julia probably wouldn't care – now – but might some day in the future. So…I don't know what to write about. But I'll figure it out.