Finger Scar #1

Growing up we had two dogs, a black lab and a mutt. My dad wasn’t a huge fan of the dogs, and while he tolerated the lab in the house, the mutt was too stupid to stay inside. Mom didn’t like leaving the mutt outside by herself, so both dogs became outside dogs. To facilitate their new living situation my dad built a dog pen. It was constructed out of wooden posts, wire, and a wood-framed door. The pen was home-made so over time the door began to sag.

One night i went out to bring the dogs inside as i did pretty much every night. After i got them out i closed the gate to the pen. Because the door sagged, you had to lift up on the wooden door frame to set it on top of the wooden base frame so that the door would close all the way. I reached in between the wire and the wood to lift up on the door frame, and when i pulled my hand back out the wire stuck into my finger and made a beautiful cut down its length. Like many surface wounds i had no idea i had been cut until i saw blood dripping off of my finger.

Growing up we had two dogs, a black lab and a mutt. My dad wasn’t a huge fan of the dogs, and while he tolerated the lab in the house, the mutt was too stupid to stay inside. Mom didn’t like leaving the mutt outside by herself, so both dogs became outside dogs. To facilitate their new living situation my dad built a dog pen. It was constructed out of wooden posts, wire, and a wood-framed door. The pen was home-made so over time the door began to sag.

One night i went out to bring the dogs inside as i did pretty much every night. After i got them out i closed the gate to the pen. Because the door sagged, you had to lift up on the wooden door frame to set it on top of the wooden base frame so that the door would close all the way. I reached in between the wire and the wood to lift up on the door frame, and when i pulled my hand back out the wire stuck into my finger and made a beautiful cut down its length. Like many surface wounds i had no idea i had been cut until i saw blood dripping off of my finger.

Big Toe Scar

My oldest scar (as far as i can remember anyway) is an inch long line down my right big toe.

Like most kids, my brother and i had chores to do when we were younger. We did the basic stuff: fold laundry, mow the lawn, clean around the house, and wash dishes. Dish washing was the most regular chore (it happened every night go figure), and it was during this chore that i got my first battle scar.

My mom used to make us rinse the dishes before we put them in the dishwasher (i guess we had a crap dishwasher?), so my brother was rinsing the dishes, handing them to me, and i was putting them in the dish washer. Rick held out a wet, slippery, drinking glass; i reached for it; he let go, and it smashed all over the floor and my foot. Of course i wasn’t wearing shoes (who does that?), so i had a nice chunk of glass sticking out of my foot.

At this point i probably started crying (what can i say? i was still a little kid), and mom and dad came to see what all the commotion was about. The blood and the tears were pretty self explanatory. They washed my foot, wrapped it up, and made me lie on the floor with it elevated on a stack of pillows. Dad also made a rule against washing dishes barefoot, but it didn’t last very long if it lasted at all.

It’s a Series!

My friends who blog seem to have this thing with blog series, so, not wanting to be left out of hip blogging culture, i came up with some series ideas. My first thought was cop stories because everyone loves a thrilling tale of everyday, mostly law abiding, Joe sticking it to the man, but given this blog’s audience and the severe lack of facial expressions/sound effects (oo maybe i could post photos of facial expressions with stories? and mp3 sound effects? but i digress) i decided against that idea. However, feel free to ask about them in person unless you are 1. my mother or 2. a future employer (no offense, but these stories are not for the faint of heart).

My second idea was decidedly less epic, but hopefully still entertaining: Scar stories. I  have a mildly extensive collection of scars, some of which i’m rather proud of, that house many of my most treasured life moments. Over the course of the next few however-long-i-feel-like-its, i will share these stories with you, and then you can take them and pass them down through the generations until they become magnificently distorted and embellished.