People I like when I have a bruise on my face

People who somehow can't see it

Lately I'll be talking to a stranger - a girl walking a dog, or a cashier, or a woman on the bus eating Cheez-its dipped in hummus - and I'll realize something's off: they're treating me normally. Because they have a superpower that allows them to not notice things on people's faces. These people are incredible and I never knew it until this week. I wish there were a parade for them. I wish there were a celebratory breakfast. If I become a scientist and invent a pill that simultaneously cures the hiccups and gives you a tan I will name it after these people.

People who act like they can't see it

"Hellooooooo! What a nice… earrings! Wow! Are those real diamonds? You have fantastic ears has anyone told you that? Ears are great for hearing and hearing is better than seeing, who needs seeing not me I'm not looking at ANYTHING right now not looking at anything at ALL!"

People who tell me embarrassing stories about themselves

I learned once that pets and babies are the two things that make people break social norms, but add "temporary face injuries" to that list because all lists should have at least three things. Strangers come up and tell me about accidents with baseballs and bikes and bunk beds and coworkers show me bruises they got from running into doorknobs, and holding people's hands too tightly, and trying to jump on a glass table. Both those lists have three things.

People who make jokes

Do you think you have a good joke? I would love to hear it. Go ahead and swing for the fences because guess who has been spending two hundred times as long thinking about this topic? Me! Chin-girl! I have an endless amount of material. Very few people can say that they woke up this morning knowing exactly what 100% of their conversations were going to be about. I can say it. It hurts a little to say, because my jaw is still pretty swollen. But I can.

10 million things in Portland: blood edition

I like Portland. Some people have never been. Visit Portland! Here are four of the ten million reasons you should. These four reasons are servings of vitamin-rich nutrients administered intravenously over the course of four weeks.



WEEK 1 (nurse: Linda)

Linda is shocked that this is my first iv ever in my life and after I explain how scared I am (very scared) she gives me bravery medication that takes 15 minutes to work. Before it starts to work I am polite-scared, my signature mixture of loud screaming interrupted by "Thanks again Linda I really appreciate this, I wish I weren't acting this way" interrupted by loud screaming again.

Linda puts the iv in and puts up with me as long as she can. The liquids going in are room temperature, and my body is 97 degrees, so it makes me feel freezing. Linda gives me orange juice to keep me from fainting and I spill the entire carton on myself.

WEEK 2 (nurse: Randi)

Randi laughs when I ask for bravery medication, and explains to me that I’m not as scared as I was the first time. Evidence of this is the fact that I don’t pass out on the spot when she asks if she can ask put the iv in the front of my forearm instead of on the inside of my elbow.

Linda makes an appearance, and tells me to tell my mom that she raised the sweetest most polite daughter she has ever met. I know this is just a nice way of telling me that I am polite, but later I tell my mom anyway. Linda also asks if I have a brother her daughter’s age. I laugh because I am polite and because laughing reminds me of not having an iv in me, and because I like Linda.

WEEK 3 (nurse: Jennifer)

The first two transfusions didn’t hurt at all but this one feels like a thumbtack or fencing sword lodged in my arm for an hour, and some of my blood spills onto the hospital napkin Jennifer put under my arm. She says my friend Erin isn't doing a good enough job of distracting me. I wish I had tried to barter for bravery medication. But I’m still only half as scared as the time before, and ten times less scared than the first time. Bravery math is a good way to distract yourself.

Between yells, I reminisce with Jennifer about how this gets easier every time.
“It’s scariest when you don’t know what to expect.” she agrees.
“Unless it’s scarier than anything you could ever imagine.” I whisper to her, and start yelling again. Politely.

WEEK 4 (nurses: Linda AND Randi)

It only takes four weeks of something you're terrified of before it's not as terrifying anymore. I laugh nervously, the way an insane person would laugh, when Linda puts the iv in, then watch Seinfeld episodes on a laptop and only feel paralyzed with fear once when my iv cord gets tangled with the headphones. My veins feel cool and refreshing, like I just drank a Coca-Cola with my soul.

"This isn't scary at all!" I tell Randi as she takes out my iv for the last time.
"...she says as she winces and squirms in her chair." says Randi, who is no Linda.

My hospital bracelet rakes in compliments faster than my heart pumps fresh blood through my body. I'm not taking it off for one million years.

Croutons also belong in the center column.

If you like poorly-scanned charts you will love this:

The room was as hot as an oven set to room temperature

More evidence of my heartbreakingly-brief stint as Ward Relief Society Historian.

Christmas Dinner

Thursday night was a black as a black panther wearing a leather jacket and dark sunglasses, but the gym where the members of Relief Society met was lit with florescent lights that sparkled like florescent lights from heaven. A succulent meal of potatoes, ham, turkey, fruit, and two types of salad was laid out for them. After a festive greeting, a prayer, and a Christmas hymn, it was time to eat. The women ran to the buffet table like ravenous wolves, wolves who had been to the best finishing school in the nation, and had better manners than most humans. As everyone ate the delicious meal they pondered their existence in the world, and how a single event can change the course of history. The desserts were indescribable, but if one had to describe them they would use the word Rice Krispy treats somewhere in the description. Legend has it that the meal was followed by a Christmas program, which was enjoyed by all.

Good news and bad news

BAD NEWS

Last week I had what I mistakenly thought would be my best cooking idea ever: potato chip eggs. Potato chip eggs is the all-time worst idea ever, more disappointing than chocolate chicken pizza, milk popsicles, and everything-free-at-Panera sandwich (two bread samples, a butter pat, and a slice of lemon).

GOOD NEWS

Most popular search terms this week:



Also I still have some potato chips left over.