Dr. Guy is in the house

Thanks for all the well wishes on the hand. I have to say, when Guy wrote that post for me the other night, I was laying on the couch with him, hand wrapped in ice, crying my little eyes out. It was hours past the incident, and I could still feel my hand burning whenever I took the cold away from it.

I just knew I would have blisters on every fingertip, all down the insides of my fingers, and spread across my palm. This would be bad for anyone, but I was thinking as a pianist. A pianist with upcoming, well paying, scheduled over a year ago, gigs.

The next morning, I woke up after a not so great night's sleep. I stripped off the glove that Guy had put my hand in after slathering it with aloe and squinted at the hand to survey the damage.

Nothing.

Not one blister.

There were red spots and tenderness. I couldn't wash my hair or do dishes or anything else that made it come into contact with heat, but for all practical purposes, my hand was fine.

So this turns into yet another post where you have to hear me talk about how amazingly fantastic Guy is, and how I'm the luckiest woman in the world.

Sorry about that. What's true is true. Annoying as it may be.

I'll be back later today with more talk about boobs. Because it's the second most annoying thing I won't shut up about.