Time for Tuesday

I slept poorly, partly because of the heat and partly because I managed to mash my finger with a rock yesterday. I have a high pain tolerance, but this was bad enough that I couldn't sleep.* Given my general record with painkillers (they rarely do much of anything) I was grateful to discover that a hefty dose of acetominophen did the trick -- though it gave me a bit of a lurch when it kicked in. I took it because I didn't want to take ibuprofen on an empty stomach; I think I'll take my chances with aspirin from here on out.

At least it's only the ring finger on my off hand, and it doesn't seem to mind typing too much.

I'm feeling okay despite all that, though. I still want to know why deyo was leaning heavily on a cane and looking tired, but unfortunately my dreams rarely come with background information.



* No, it's not broken.

It's a painting, every day

I was looking out the window on the ride home through the marshes today.

The wind-ruffled water was reflecting a very deep blue sky, interspersed with either the bottle green of summer rushes, or the sere ocher color of last year's dead and drowned weeds. Some of the flats were almost orange with dried mud, or yellow with blooming flowers... I almost got drunk on the colors alone.

I wish I were carrying a camera worth the name -- even if I was unable to catch detail, the patchwork of colors would have been a lovely picture.