Today in the cemetery there was a funeral. An ambulance was in attendance. Which would be a serious bummer. Either it was a small funeral, or mostly everybody had left because there were only four cars/trucks/suv's there. All white. But you're putting someone in the ground, hopefully someone who has led a long happy life and died quickly and without undue trauma at the end of it, and then, BAM! someone else hits the ground.

I would assume the spouse of the deceased, equally aged. But who knows. So then, as the child, you have just buried a parent and now you have to go to the hospital and hang out instead of going to someone's house and eating and drinking too much.

Also, it was yet another cold gray day in a seemingly endless string of cold gray days here in a mid western town.

I found a rock, which I needed, and also some good sticks. I am building a tree. A small tree. From which this clay bird guy may or may not hang. He may end up in a cage. I was making cages and making birds to put in them, but someone pulled a Portlandia on me and confirmed by secret fear that yes, indeed, birds were not necessarily the thing I wanted to put in cages.  Even though I finally made a bird that matches my Platonic ideal of what a tiny ceramic bird should look like.

Oh, well. So this bird like guy has a bird head and a man's body. It is not out of the realm of possibility that what I really want to put in cages is boys, and not birds at all.

On the floor yesterday there was a really mean and nasty man. He came in with a foley and it was draining profoundly foul smelling cloudy urine with much sediment. He was in to get a HUGE wound on his foot debrided and a toe amputated. I did not see the wound, but it was on top of his foot and apparently you could see tendon.  ICK. I do not like wounds in which I can see muscle, let alone tendon.

He was not very nice, which all things considered, is understandable. His wife came in in the afternoon. She said he was like that all the time and, "she believed in her vows, or she would have left him years ago." She also said that he had met a nurse at another hospital and she was all calling him...personally I found this hard to believe, profoundly stinky urine aside. Diabetics - mind your feet. You will lose feeling in your feet, and your body does not heal well.  Foot ulcers are terrible. Avoid them at all costs because they will turn into horrible wounds. Mind Your Feet. This is not said lightly, or tongue in cheek, keep your feet safe.

On the subject of feet - I do not know what happens between sixty - some and eighty with with feet - but my parents' feet look like one would expect feet to look, and my grandma's feet looked like one expects feet to look - but yet I see people in their sixties to nineties with wicked fucked up feet. What the hell were we doing to feet forty years ago?!

I expect that my funny fat feet with their star tattoos will remain fairly intact into my dotage. Unless there is this cataclysmic event that happens with menopause that warps then.

So,  hi, I am a nurse. And things are funny.