One discussion led to another and she is emailing me the topics a week at a time. I'm writing my responses, sending them back to her, and she is picking her favorite among my writings. Then I am going to post her favorite one of mine of the week. I'm doing the same to her. And then I'm going to post her favorite here each Saturday- something a bit different than a meme. You never know what you're going to get with this little project.
The weekends are a veritable wasteland in the blogger world so I thought this would be a good place to introduce "The Writing Nook".
Here is the first one. The topic was "write about a wound"! I hope you all enjoy!
When I was in the 9th grade, a big horsey girl who was the star center on the basketball team was assigned as my guard in a PE class basketball game. I didn’t NOT play sports; I danced but had zero coordination for anything to do with a ball. And I hate gym class, considering it one more thing to make my high school years miserable.
And I knew it would not go well when Ms Jock was blocking me. I couldn’t touch the ball without her plowing me over. And since she towered over me by about 13 inches and had played basketball since she could hold a bottle, nor could I block her or be defensive or offensive or whatever I was supposed to be doing. I could barely stay on my feet let alone do anything remotely related to “playing” this stupid game in a stupid all girls PE class as a stupid frosh in stupid high school.
Crunch! She went up for a rebound and I got in her way and she landed on my foot. Which promptly broke. And I promptly lay on the floor writhing in agony. Of course no one would listen to me when I said it was broken. The super jock gym teacher just drug me to the sidelines where I sat on the sideline with ice on my foot. Then I hobbled to the office and waited for my mom to get me. She did, and took me to the doctor's office.
At the doctor office we took of my shoe and sock and it was GROSS. My foot, which was normally a size 7 and thin and milky white, was now double in size and so purple it was black. It was nasty. My toes were resembling Vienna Sausages. My ankle bones looked like buttons in the midst of the swelling.
The x-rays showed nothing broken through the swelling. But lo and behold, two days later it was x-rayed again because I still cried when I had to walk on it, and it was broken. It was still swollen, still black, still couldn’t move my still sausage like toes. It was broken. I got a cast, one of those old fashioned plaster ones. When the doctor put the cast on he and I sang most of the score to the Broadway musical The Music Man. (I don't know why. It's just the way my doctor was.) My dad painted a huge Christmas tree on it since this happened 3 weeks before the holiday.
Good news- I was done with PE for the rest of the year!
I'm a writin' fool,
Click here to read my favorite Hecate writing out of this week's assignments!