Things In My Hands, Mostly

Well, I’m done with the processing I was doing for a while. The vignettes, center light, and tones were fun for a few weeks but I prefer au naturel. So I figured I’d go out with a bang.

This first hashioki (chopstick rest) I picked up in Okinawa, and the second pink crane I picked up in Toronto. I’m feeling the itching desire to start a collection.

My mom knitted this blanket for me when I was still in high school. It’s my favorite. I’m not sure she knows how much I cherish it, which reminds me how important and personal handmade gifts really are.




So I wanted to take out the hoop in my tragus piercing but my fingers were too big to grip either sides around the ball. I’d been trying in the bathroom every day for at least two weeks and failing, and now it’s swollen and extremely irritated. With dry crusted puss. Gross, I know. I’d been thinking of a way to try and get it out, since Google informed me that it should just “pop right out”. I wondered what the hell I was doing wrong. I tried using tweezers and hurt myself and finally resorted to phoning up the nurse who pierced me. Thank goodness. Apparently it would be much more difficult because I chose a spring loaded ring and that the suggestion was to use two pliers on either side of the ball. It was also advised I should perhaps numb it first. You’re probably thinking what I was thinking at the time, which was, “Oh, this should be fun.”

Unfortunately we don’t have any pliers. When I told Tom about her advice, he just stared at me. “Well, that doesn’t make sense. It would make more sense if you applied pressure from the inside and popped it open. It’s much easier than using two pliers and pulling them apart. It uses less force. Here.”

He then proceeded to grab my haircutting scissors and place them inside the hoop. I took a deep breath and by the time I fully inhaled he’d already popped the ball off by opening the scissors. I didn’t even notice.

He totally solved my problem, MacGyver style, and left me pain free.

If you’re unaware of the importance of this statement, you know I had a crush on MacGuyver when I was seven. He was my number one “celebrity/tv character” until I was probably sixteen. I thought he was the “ideal man”. I compared every boy to him. (Until Tom came along, then every boy was compared to him. And then I realized no boy would compare to him and to my surprise, he asked to marry me.)

I know, I know, it was a pretty corny show. Okay, really corny. And really it wasn’t exactly like MacGuyver. It’s not like he used a gum wrapper or a shoelace or a bobby pin. But I felt my heart swell up when he did it, like it did when I used to watch the show, and that’s all that matters.

I am trying hard to picture Tom with a mullet.