Aardvark Art Glass


Hurt toe

I’ve been working on a little fusing project back at the house this week. I’m trying to turn about 15 pounds (8 year’s worth) of shorts, stringers and broken beads into tiles I can use in a mosaic. Haven’t you always wanted to make something out of all of your scrap? I sure have. Anyway, last night I was working away zoning out on the colors when I dropped a rod lopper straight down onto my littlest toe, blade side down. My littlest toes are so tiny I don’t really consider them to be full-fledged appendages. Legitimate appendages are the ones they make band-aids for. My toes more like bumps that are about the same size as large cocktail peanuts. Surprisingly, the rod lopper did not sever my toe- it cut pretty deep into the tip of it but, seeing as how my toe is so tiny, I didn’t need stitches or anything.

But I’ve got this hurt toe now and since I can’t wear a proper shoe the toe remains vulnerable. My brain continually reminds me that everything is a threat to my hurt toe. When I open a door I think “Careful! Don’t let the door hit your hurt toe.” Or when I’m working I think “Don’t let any glass roll off the table-it could land on your hurt toe.” Or if I see a skateboarder or someone biking I think “Lookout! That person is going to run right over your hurt toe!” It’s funny  how protective my brain is over that toe while it carelessly allows me to re-injure almost any other part of my body with it’s inattentiveness.

This exact same thing happened about twelve years ago when I dropped a metal space heater on my toe. I remember it because at the time Don was living in Japan installing brewing systems and I was trying to lure him into my Madison-based web of deciet and lies by writing him funny letters. I wrote him about my toe injury and my meddling brain which was doing the same thing that it is now with the constant warnings. Probably wouldn’t have remembered this as a trend otherwise.

 

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2 Comments so far
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I must say, isn’t it amazing how one innocent little rod lopper can evoke such powerfull physical and emotional confessions. After all, one would normally think that only full fledged appendages could elicit such deep admissions. Perhaps future psychoanalists could take some cues from this technique. After all our brains do get right persnickity about the most curious of physical slights. All of this must surely prove something, yet still my curious curiosity remains unsated as to what. The rod lopper remains as silent as the passing cyclists. Perhaps only silly letters to future lovers will tell. Perhaps our psychic scrap beckons. Se La Vie (or rather raise a glass to our most vulnerable appendages)…
P.S. Thanks for the forum to let loose such whimsy…

Comment by sp

That psychology degree is rearing it’s ugly head, yes?
I didn’t think anyone would be able to comment on this one–mostly because there was no point, exactly, on which to comment. Excellent job, pal!

Comment by cathylybarger




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