Monday, April 06, 2009

Remember those deadly shears that pierced the palm of my hand back in February? Well, I was snipping some rose stems and pinched a finger. It's not a big deal, but damn, those are some dangerous scissors. I don't know what my dad was thinking giving them to me.

I dreamed of those scissors back in March. My (dream, not real) uncle came over to kill my father's side of the family because we excelled too much and things needed to be evened out. There were guns and I was worried. I hid Gideon under my bed. I told him to stay there, but he didn't. Then my (dream) uncle came to fight me. He came at me with a knife. With my scissors I was able to block and eventually pull the knife out of his hands. This impressed my uncle in a kind of "Obi Wan has taught you well" kind of way.

I like this dream because scissors are kind of a feminine tool and I was able to properly wield it.

Of course if the fight scene happened in real life I likely would have amputated my nose or something.

I know, what you're really wondering: why was I cutting rose stems? Because today is Chris' and my 13th wedding anniversary! I got him the roses because Gideon loves selecting flowers. The 13th wedding anniversary is supposed to be lace and textiles, but I wasn't able to find anything lacy in his size.

I also got him The Manual of Detection because he's the world's worst spy -- and because I was on a roundtable last week with the author, Jedediah Berry. I didn't know Jedediah was a fancy detective novel author until after the panel when Mike Young took me to a bookstore and showed me his book. Mike showed me lots of books. We'd pick up books, tell each other funny stories about the authors and snort.

That is my favorite thing to do at bookstores.


At 2:16 PM, Blogger shanna said...

happy anniversary! good job!

At 5:59 PM, Blogger nolapoet said...

No more sharps for you! :D

At 10:35 PM, Blogger Reen said...

I stabbed myself with a bookbinder's awl and spent eight hours in GW's emergency room waiting for a tetanus shot. We should start an eternal sisterhood of the accidentally self-stabby.


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