College Boy Graham is home, dinner has done been et, and we are awaiting the cookies out of the oven.
Can I add a post script to yesterday's post about that Spouse o' Mine and his hand? This morning, we were busy for an hour or two upon waking, Skyping Chilean customers and whatnot. Finally, that Spouse o' Mine went in to change the dressing on his carving wound. I asked if I could have a look.
I refrained from squeezing my eyes shut. I remained without emotion showing on my face. "You really need to go have this attended to. We really should have gone in last night."
For once in our happily wedded bliss, he acquiesced. The wound was not pleasant. Meaty-things going on there. (I asked myself, if ever my Dad the sculpture incurred such injuries? Must ask my mother...)
He drove in by himself (thank goodness, because I could only imagine how many cold and flu germs would hinge themselves onto me in the waiting room...yes! I am neurotic.)
Speaking of waiting rooms...
That Spouse o' Mine waited three hours. Three hours and some sutures later (Told ya so!), he was good to go. I told him if we had gone in last night, when the blood flow was ridiculous, they would have seen him immediately.
And now, back to our happy evening of reunion?
I love this old, old song - here recorded by Johnny Cash.
Children Go Where I Send Thee