You're my letter to desire, and you'll never read yourself.

So, I'm doing camera prep for tomorrow. Here's the itinerary:


- Wake up at 4:15
- pack camera bag and snacky things
- slam a Rockstar
- Drive five hours to Crystal
- PHOTOGRAPH DEAD HORSE MILL (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
- Photograph Crystal
- Drive to the hour and a half to Hanging Lake
- Make that dreadfully hard hike (but this time, with my arm in my sling, and appropriate shoes)
- Photograph, photograph, photograph
-Drive four hours home
- Go. The. Fuck. To. Sleep.


I'm so glad I'm taking this trip with company, as I am too fucking broke right now to afford it (I may very well be in the WORST state of financial hell I've ever personally been in. And I've been homeless, so that's saying something). But also because that's a lot of driving. And I love a good road trip, but that's too much in my condition. Which is selfishly interested in staring out the window, in case you were curious.


It's been a very, very long week, and I'm very excited to finish this blog and catch up on Suits. I'm fairly convinced that the writers modeled Donna after me. I also covet her wardrobe.


Time to finish cleaning the camera! Then Suits and sleep. Yay!

The day I climbed a mountain in flip flops

Short entry again. I climbed a mountain yesterday, and had physical  therapy today. Saying I'm in pain is underselling how I feel.

Here are the things I shot:

My kingdom for clean hair, and an x-ray of my breast

Really, having a broken arm isn't that bad. I mean, it takes me a long time to dress myself....but I can! No complaints there. It's uncomfortable when I sleep, but I sometimes sleep through the night now, so again, no complaints. I do sneak upstairs into Allen's room and curl up next to him some nights, however. I just can't get comfortable downstairs, and he has more pillows than I do. It's a nice change of pace. But I digress.

My one complaint? I can't take a shower without help, and I DEFINITELY can't wash or style my hair. That makes me feel subhuman. The girl who colors my hair made me an offer I couldn't refuse, so she washes my hair for me twice a week. Those days are my favorites.

I miss taking photos. I can't hold my camera at all. Harrumph.

I suppose I actually could complain about quite a bit...but why? It doesn't change anything. I WILL say that the storms rolling through are doing a number on my arm. The pressure changes are not very friendly, and as a result, I'm spending my hours with percocets just so I can feel a normal amount of pain.

My staples are gone, though!

In which you can see Allen's lap, my plate and screws, and my breast in x-ray form:

Phase two in the Lady Deathstryke crossover: complete. My incision site looks pretty radical, as well, but I'll have to post that later. Blogger is proving uncooperative.

I can't type much more. It's painful. I start physical therapy tomorrow, and I'm fairly scared. BUT, I''m a tough old thing. I'll make it through with a smileon my face, even if I don't feel like smiling.