Today's Adventures

[ysabetwordsmith]

We went out shopping today. 

We stopped at Flesor's Candy Kitchen.  They have many kinds of homemade candy, some common things like turtles, but also many that you don't see everywhere.  I got a cashew cluster and an apple pie truffle, both quite good, of which I favor the cashew. There were other things I'd like to try.  They also do lunches and homemade ice cream, which we'd like to explore another time.

I also saw something I don't see very often: a young man with very clear self-injury marks on his left wrist.  No effort at all to hide them, which is not typical; and more females than males are prone to cutting, as males generally prefer to get their consensual pain from rough sports.  But it's not unknown.  I mention it here for my friends who are involved with self-injury.  You are not alone.

The Mattoon Wal-Mart is all torn up for renovations. :/  So we'll have to shop in Charleston for a while, where the selection is less good, but that's better than crawling all over the store trying to find where they put things. 

We got a little rain today.  Actually, we got soaked up in Tuscola going to and from the candy store.  But later on, when we came home, there were puddles around the house.

Comments

[snippy]

My older son self-injures. He can never be left alone with his children because he did it when they were nearby once (not in the same room, but the same apartment).

[thnidu]

I've got a scar running about four inches up my left arm from just above the base of the palm, but it's not from self-injury. When I was about 6 I heard the station wagon honking outside to take me to nursery school. The front storm door had a big glass panel (my dad switched it for a screen in summer). I checked the door handle to make sure it was unlatched, and I suppose I turned the handle enough to leave the door just ajar. Then I stepped back about six feet, I guess, extended my arms all the way in front of me like Superman in flight, shouted "Superman!", and ran for the door to push it open and go out through the doorway.

There was a hook-and-eye latch about 6 feet off the floor, way out of my normal field of view, and it was latched.

Lots of blood on the linoleum floor — I can still see it in memory — and a week in the hospital with my left arm in a cast, after the cut was closed up with black thread — I can see that too. When the cast was removed, the thread was (gasp!) gone: absorbed into my flesh, as intended. The scar went nearly to my elbow then, but the scar tissue shrank as the rest of me grew.

I've always had a poor sense of direction, but from then on I could always check which side was my left and which was my right. Sometimes I still do!

I also have a special dislike of glass on the sidewalk, either broken or waiting to be, and make a special point of picking it up and carrying it to the nearest recycling bin, or trash barrel if necessary.

Well ...

[ysabetwordsmith]

I won't let anyone put knives in a sink of water. My grandmother used to do that, and she wound up cutting herself significantly. Later on, my partner hit on the idea of soaking grungy knives in a glass of water on the counter. There's no way to lose track of them that way.

Re: Well ...

[thnidu]

That's a good way, but my counter's too small and crowded, and too much risk of spilling the glass. I don't fill the sink. I seldom soak sharp knives (as opposed to dull-edged table knives), but prefer to wipe them immediately with detergent and a sponge, rinse, and either dry and put away or put in the utensil holder in the dishrack to drain, point- and edge-down and so placed that they won't unbalance and turn point-up. When I do soak one, it's in a cereal bowl, blade in water, handle up.