Evil Phone Fairy

Quick! Before you even read this horrendous tale of tragedy, pop over to Dlyn's for her interview with Fred and Bessie. I wanna know where she learned Moo! Or did she use a translator?

Lemme tell ya - don't taunt the phone fairy. She plays rough. Real rough. Don't believe me? Let me show you what I get for not only running a post about not having a cell phone, but re-running it now that I have one, throwing my lack of skills and fancy amenities in her face. Come see.

Not the pasty white leg, people. Not the freckles either, though they'd put the Milky Way to shame. When in college, during boring lectures, my boyfriend would whip out a pen and create constellations on my arms. And leave my toe ring out of this. No, see, it's that itty bitty gash. Doesn't look too ferocious, right? I've been icing it off and on all afternoon. Let me tell you what happened ...

I was having a terrific afternoon, trying to draw out Ryker, who had been sulky since he arrived in the pre-K classroom. Isn't Ryker a cool name? I thought so, so I was extolling the virtues of the sycamore tree, attempting to interest him in one of its finer features, the prickly burr balls. It was - oh, about 2:30. I know because I'd just whipped my cute little red Samsung out of my hip pocket to check. We were at recess and I wanted to make sure we made it in in time.

So I'm talking to Ryker about the sycamore - lovely creature, dropping it's giant, brittle leaves everywhere, shaking off big prickly balls (little land mines for a barefoot child), bark peeling like crazy - and we're looking for those prickly balls. Silly me. It's spring. They're itty bitty things this time of year. With all the new green leaves coming in, they're tough to see. But Ryker managed to see them, so I started walking out toward the end of a branch where he'd pointed them out, hoping to jump up and grab one for him, talking and pointing up at the prickly burr balls.

I walked right into a metal bench. See how low the gash is? Who makes a bench this low?! I mean, how short are four and five year olds really? This is, like, two inches above my ankle!


I wasn't content to just run into the bench. Nooo. It was like some horrible slow motion movie clip. I could feel myself hit and feel myself going down. I willed myself to stay upright, to no avail. It was nearly a full face plant, but I managed to catch myself and now my right palm is killing me. And my knees - I think they might have sustained a little shock. But the worst, the absolute worst, was my hip. My left hip. Let me show you the damage there. It's horrendous. Are you sure you're ready to see it in all it's gory detail? I'm not sure you are. It's bad, people. But if you think you're ready, here you go:


This - this is what I get for taunting the phone fairy. Snapped clean in half. Adding insult to injury, I reached in my pocket tonight and found another piece of the hinge. That just hurts, phone fairy.

Seriously? My leg hurts. Really badly. You can't really see it, probably because I'd had ice on it the 20 minutes prior to the photo, but the area around the gash is swollen pretty badly. I plan to take pictures for as long as it decides to turn pretty colors. Which it hasn't done yet.

The upside of all this is my grand excuse to sit on the couch, foot elevated, surfing and posting. I might even write another F&B episode tonight.

And when I can walk again I'm headed out for a new phone. Until then, call my home phone, okay?

Until I write again ...

Flea