Wednesday, 18 September 2013

My 15 minutes..

...seems to have become more like an hour..
However, as this blog is firmly titled "Does Not Equal", and one of my "does nots" is a particular distaste for the Press's liking for assigning ages - Mary (147) seems as offensive to me as Mary (nice tits) and statuses to women ("Mother of two"? Really? is that ALL?) in a way that just does not happen if a protagonist is male or famous or perhaps young, I'm about to tell all the media to go away and leave me in peace to heal.

And then I may sulk..

I had to have my bacon cut up for me at breakfast yesterday, which is SO demeaning..

On the other hand, being washed by one's Favourite Man is fine ...

On the other other hand, if you've emailed me or sent a card or just read this and shuddered, THANK YOU for caring.  (I wish I had more hands)  Hey, want to hear the sound of one hand not clapping?

I'm really damned glad to be here, and alive and still breathing.  Even with a fantastically painful knee and an unusable hand and scabs and scrapes and bits of glass all over and no red car, still glad

This morning, in the deli, I looked and saw this wonderful shadow, and my Inner Artist grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and said "hey! camera; take picture..."

Aren't those curves delicious?
Bless you all, and may your luck be ever good..