One of these things just doesn't belong here!

My most recent experience with a foreign object trapped in my own body involved a chopstick. I was at our favorite local sushi restaurant and after removing the paper sheath from the chopsticks, I rubbed the tops of them together to enjoy a smooth eating utensil. This was a really bad idea. As my finger slid along the chopstick ever so gingerly, a tiny wood shaving lodged deep inside my finger where it stayed for THREE STINKING WEEKS!


Despite my best efforts, I couldn't see the sliver nor could I tweeze or soak it out. The Hubs and the OS learned of my sliver woes on a daily, if not hourly basis for nearly a month. Each time my West Point OS called home, I gave him a "sliver update." I even thought about going to the doctor. And then one day, in a pain I liken to childbirth, the sliver decided to move elsewhere and poof, it was gone. Huh.

oh herro dere, sewing needle! long time, no see!

Many of us have weird corpus alienum stories. Take, for example my cousin's husband who fell a few days ago. Concerned, Ben went to the doctor and got an x-ray. Ben learned three things that day.  
1. He hadn't broken anything
2. He had a moderate to severe sprain requiring rest
and 3. (prepare yourselves, friends)...Ben has a sewing needle in his foot. 


Apparently when Ben was a kid, he must have stepped on a sewing needle. It has been living in his heel peacefully for 20+ years.


The post on his facebook has elicited much conversation. I have removed names of people who have commented on Ben's status but I had to show you what his friends and family have said.

• That is my lifelong fear.
  

  Yesterday at 11:29am ·  ·  1
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  that is awesome!
  

  Yesterday at 11:31am · 
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  That happened to me when I was 6...stepped on a needle and it broke off...had to have it surgically removed:)
  

  Yesterday at 11:36am · 
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  coolest thing ever. i hope your heel doesn't start hurting during bad weather when you're older.
  

  Yesterday at 11:37am · 
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  I had a thorn buried in my head for a couple years that I didn't know about.
  

  Yesterday at 11:41am · 
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  that's crazy
  

  Yesterday at 11:53am · 
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  dude thats crazy..u are the talk of my cubicle group lol.
  

  Yesterday at 11:54am ·  ·  1
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  Ur my new hero. This is pretty crazy.
  

  Yesterday at 12:20pm · 
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   Do you need a hug??
  

  23 hours ago · 
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• Man, I stepped on a sewing needle when I was in high school and limped around for a while. After a week, or so it felt beter so I went on about life. Three months later a boil appeared on my thigh and when I popped it I saw what looked like a splinter. I pulled a sewing needle out with tweezers.
  

  16 hours ago · 
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  I feel like a terrible mother. The sewing needle had to be mine or Grandma's.
  

  14 hours ago · 
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I can't figure out if my favorite comment is that my uncle had a thorn buried in his head for a couple of years that he didn't know about (which explains a lot!) or if it's Ben's friend who said he stepped on a sewing needle in high school. The guy limped around for a while and after a week or so, he felt better. Then three months later, a boil appeared on his thigh. When he popped it (sorry about the disgusting word picture!), he saw what looked like a splinter. But it wasn't a splinter, instead he pulled a sewing needle out of his thigh with a pair of tweezers.

At least one of these guys, (all members of 
my extended family, btw), currently has a 
sewing needle living in his foot. Good times. 

So here's my question. Do you have a strange splinter, chopstick or a sewing needle story? I'd love to hear about it. I'll even sweeten the deal, I will write on a slip of paper the names of each person who comments on this post and next Friday, January 27th, I will draw a winner. I will then send the person a little something I've made with a sewing needle! I'll announce the winner on January 28th. If you comment on my blog or on my facebook about this post, you'll be in the epic drawing!

Wednesday remix - part two, from the middle OS

My middle OS Aaron is at it again. My arm is no longer confined to a cast and a sling but I relinquish my blog to him so he can continue exaggerating his dolorous journey to the Quilting Symposium. Here is part two which means that yes, there will be a part three. I had no idea he had this much teenage angst!

Mom and I not at the symposium

Fully aware that the decision I had made could possibly claim my life, I rode in the car with my Grandma and very excited mother. We pulled into Peace College and stepped out of the car. My heart pounded, vision blurred, muscles tightened and senses heightened. I became completely conscious of my surroundings as we walked to the symposium. 

I spot a tent pavilion on my twelve o'clock with two ladies guiding us toward the quilts, another middle-aged lady on my nine also approaching the tent, a lady with a small purse on my four o'clock sitting on a bench, a lady on my three o'clock heading to the symposium, a lady, a lady, a lady, a lady. THEY WERE ALL LADIES! Was I the only male in attendance? Was I the only person under 40 interested in…I mean NOT interested in quilting? I now stood in a desert, devoid of all teenagers, males and attractive young girls. 

Where had I to turn? I was completely on my own. I carried my mom’s backpack with all her essential quilt symposium tools and followed her and my grandma to the front desk. The ladies there gave us sheets of paper with all of the vendors in attendance listed. 

Quilty things

“If you get all of the vendors to sign this, you can enter it in for a raffle prize afterwards.”

“Thanks so much.” I wanted that raffle prize badly, but did not have the dignity...or lack of dignity to go to the vendors and ask their signature for my chance at a quilting prize. 

Then the inevitable happened. And I knew it would happen. My mom looked at me, gave me her purse, and said, “I have to go to the bathroom. Stay here. Come on, Mom.” 

“You want me to just stay here?” 

“Yeah, wait for me and your grandma.”

This was where the nightmare began. In the midst of a tornado of frenzied quilters, my mom left me alone to go to the bathroom. I thought she loved me, now she just leaves me here to wither away in my own dark corner of the Quilting Symposium. 

Someone remind me, what am I doing here???

"I hope they’re ok. I hope I’m ok." With every passing second, I drew nearer and nearer to my impending doom. If it seems like I’m exaggerating, (and those of you who know me know I am very careful on never being too dramatic) I’m not. I felt sure they had left me at the symposium. All hopes of a safe return home were now smashed. Goodbye world. Goodbye friends, guitars, graduation, college.            

One of these things just doesn't belong here!

“There you are. I’ve been just standing here forever.”

“Oh, haha, people probably thought you were a little cutie.” Thanks, Mom.

We entered the venue starting with a wall of aprons, of which my favorite was the pastel orange and purple. 

The mother of all machines

Then to giant long arm sewing machine. This was the T-Rex of all sewing machines. The Queen of the quilters. This thing could embroider the southern border of the U.S. We continued on with empty bladders and frenzied nerves.

(to be continued...)