un-American to have ugly teeth. Somehow it didn't bother me unless I was going to the dentist. Then I was embarrassed. Gradually I have given up going to the dentist for that reason, not wanting to expose my ugly teeth or most-likely bad breath to a captive hygienist. My teeth are servicable and healthy, just not pretty.
Anyway, the point of the picture is the glasses. I can now see my fingernails through the bifocal part of the lenses and I spend a fair amount of time examining them. They are uncared for as they have always been. The cuticles are securely glued to the outside edges of the nails, never having been pushed back or cut. They are haphazzardly trimmed with nail clippers to various lengths. Most have dirt of obscure origin under them and are snagged at the edges. I'm not saying that they would be any different if I had been able to see them all these years......like teeth, they serve a function. For some reason I never had any interest in making them pretty (if there is such a thing as a pretty nail). Nevertheless, I find it entertaining to look at them now, just as I find my eyes that look in slightly different directions interesting to observe. My second toes are longer than my big toes, too, and misshapen with all the years of trying to shrink inside normally shaped shoes. The back of my head is flat. My lips are thin. I'm much too short. By normal standards I am a mass of defective parts, usually considered unnattractive. Somehow it all seems to work, though, as a whole. I don't mind the way I look.
Monday, September 05, 2011
The roof of the chicken house is right outside my dining room window and I regularly see the girls looking at me through the glass. It's a good substitute for having birdfeeders out there as I did in the past.
I have been busy lately with company and dealing with my latest legal battle, but three days ago I had a terrible incident happen. I struck a girl as I was driving through Pleasant Point on my way back from Bangor. She was hurt bad enough to be taken to Bangor by ambulance, and apparently had surgery. She's home now and pretty much recovered. Although no one blames me for the accident (the girl ran out into the road without looking to see her friends across the street), I was quite shaken by it all. The girl lay on the road with people screaming and crying all around her. Cell phones were at every ear calling the police and ambulance. I was treated with kindness by everyone involved and the policeman who handled the case called me the next day to make sure I was all right. Ever since it happened, though, I keep seeing that blurr of the girl appearing directly in front of me and hearing the sound of the thud when the car hit her. I swerved to avoid her, but there was no time to stop it from happening.
Word spreads quickly in a town like this and I am considerably comforted by the concern people have shown me. Nevertheless, it is certainly something I will never be able to completely put it behind me.