I received so many kind words from you about my little accident on Monday.  Thank you.

I’m shaping up well, although today has been probably the worst since the swelling has now morphed down into my eye sockets.  This means that I’m both physically tired trying to keep them open and exhausted from the pressure behind my eyeballs.  Nevertheless, I’m doing good.  I’m trying to keep my bangs over my forehead so as not to scare people.  (I’ve been there; if it wasn’t me with the stitches, I’d be soooo grossed out!)

But sometimes bangs just say, “Nope, not going to be banging today.”  Then you look like this.

Scarface.

I had a meeting today at the hospital so I vainly tried pulling my bangs into line on the way over there, but over frosted banana bread and apple cider treats, I could see people in the conference eyeing me.  I was trying to think of a better story to give like, “I was attacked by a masked man and I still identified him a line-up” or “I had a small tumor removed from my brain through my forehead as a new technique and Patrick Dempsy was my brain surgeon!”, but then I just stopped trying because, let’s be honest, Patrick doesn’t really perform brain surgeries and being attacked isn’t something to lie about.  And also because my true, legit story seems just as unbelievable as the made-up scenarios.

So I just let it be.  Me and my lightening bolt are rocking the city.  In high heels.