Slice

"Hey, baby? Could you get me a Bandaid?"

"Sure. Where did you put the...OH MY GOD!"

"It's not that bad. I'm just gonna apply pressure," I said, reassuringly. Of course, with my finger in my mouth, it came out more like "iffthsnut thut bud..."

"Why is your finger in your MOUTH!?"

"Because it...I figured it would...keep blood off the floor? Look, I don't know why I do what I do. The best you can hope for is that you don't become collateral damage."

"Why don't you try not injuring yourself while doing routine home maintenance tasks?"

"Have you _met_ me? We've known each other how long - a dozen years - and you haven't figured it out yet? This is precisely why my first aid kit is so well stocked."

It's been about three weeks, and it's pretty much healed. This was a few days after it happened; it's much better now. The cut was deep enough to sever nerves, so there is a band of tissue across my thumb that feels tingly, like Lidocaine just starting to wear off. I find myself rubbing it against the edge of my desk, pressing against it with my fingernail, poking it with my pen, in part to see if the sensation has come back yet, but more because I'm fascinated by that hard, shiny line where I can't feel anything.

Heal

This month's theme, Heal.

I have so much I want to say about this. I've thought about it quite a bit recently, wondered about the differences between healing and scarring, getting past something versus really putting it behind you and moving forward. I feel like I've done a little of each of those things over the last three years, with varying degrees of success. Mostly, I feel as though I've survived, and I'm proud of that, but it isn't always enough. There are emotional wounds that have closed up without completely healing. There are scars so tight that they're keeping me from being able to move the way I want to move.

This is shaping up to be a weird NaBloPoMo month. It might be the first one that truly feels personal to me. It will also be the first one that Mr. Wolf will be live-reading, as he's sitting just to my left as I'm writing this entry. I don't know how he's going to respond to some of it. I know it's not always going to be funny or witty.

There's just been so much. It's tempting to say, "Whew! That's over," and march forward. But it's all still back there, just waiting. I have to turn back and face it down.

It's Just South of Schnauzerville

Hello!

It's me, Winston J. Schmidt.

I've been keeping pretty busy with this new thing I wanna talk to you guys about. It's pretty exciting. Suzanne and Mr. Wolf went out of town a few weeks ago, and I got to go to this really awesome place and hang out for a couple of days. There were other dogs, and all kinds of smells, and you'll never guess what happened next.

They made me the Mayor of Chihuahua Town.

First, I tried out for the office assistant position, and I thought I did a pretty good job of it, because I didn't eat any of the office supplies, but they said that I was there to have social time with other dogs, not be an office assistant.

I make friends wherever I go, but I wasn't expecting to be this popular. The nice lady put me in with the huskies and shepherds, and I hung out with them for a bit, but then I thought, "Hey, you know what? Other dogs might like to get in on the Winston action, and I could use a break."

The fences at the most exciting place on Earth are kinda low (standard dog park height, and this is why we don't go to dog parks - ed.), so I hopped over them until I found a bunch of guys who were more my speed, and we hung out. When the nice lady came looking for me, she found me with a couple of mini schnauzers, a Pomeranian, a dog that looked kinda like my favorite fleece toy, and some chihuahuas. They ran around me and barked, which I didn't used to like, but then I figured it was O.K. because we were all having so much fun. It was the coolest.

The nice lady tried to put me back with the big dogs, but I kept jumping, so she finally gave up.

When Suzanne and Mr. Wolf came to get me, I jumped over another fence and ran to the door to greet them. I told them all about the other dogs, and how much fun I had there, and then I climbed into the back seat and fell asleep for two days, because, you know, a guy gets tired. Being the Mayor of Chihuahua Town is exhausting.

In conclusion, I really like that place, and I hope I get to go back there more, because they need a guy like me to keep things lively.

Sincerely,

Winston J. ‘Bug’ Schmidt

Promptly

"My skirt looks short because I have long shins," I'd said, and now, water rising around me, I laughed as I remembered her disapproving scowl.

Also Known As

I used to wish I had a different name. I'd pick a friend's name and pretend it was mine, testing out being a Jill or a Michelle. I'd say my own name repeatedly, until the sounds didn't make sense anymore and it sounded strange. I don't know who I thought should be a Suzanne, but it wasn't me. 

I've had people try to modify it, especially recently. Red calls me Suz, which I'm surprised that I like. Jeri's older son called me Zanne before he could say my full name. I'm trying to get the twins used to it, so that they'll use it when they start talking. 

At Starbucks, Black Bart always gives his name as Rocco. It's nowhere near his real name. The clerks get it wrong most of the time. 

"It doesn't have a K!"

"It's not your real name. Why do you care?"

"Who spells Rocco with a K?!?"

I tried out Audrey for a few weeks, but couldn't keep up the charade. "With an E?" they'd ask. Not quick enough to lie effectively, I'd say, "No, no E." Audry. Who spells it like that? I went back to my own name,but the barista at my morning Starbucks was too embarrassed to admit that she didn't know it without being prompted. 

So I got this.