I don't think I heal as fast as other people.

I could be wrong, though. I don't spend much of my time monitering other people's wounds.

But I just don't think I heal very fast.

On my face, yes. (I know this from a dozen lovely slashes my cat managed to claw across my face, which healed in two days.) But not on my hands. My hands tend to take quite a beating, and look like it too.

I took quite a lovely fall on some pavement when I was in Vancouver and my hands don't look much better than when I first tumbled. Well, it's not bleeding anymore, but my hands, especially my left one, still is pretty rough and pretty damn painful.

My knee is healing up fast.

I don't like falling. I got tangled in my skirt, which is how I fell. Scraped my knee, both my hands, bruised my right buttock (damn that one hurts!) and my left elbow.

But it's all good. It was about time I fell down. I mean, I managed all winter without slipping once on the ice. Though ice is better than pavement because it's smooth. And it's a better ride.

But I best be off. I'm researching Henry VII and his six wives, and it's due Monday, and I'm still only on him and his first wife.

Blea.

.

Rosie.

Before&After