The arm is healing but it’s going to take a little time. Yesterday I very carefully took a bath. This morning I’m desperate for a shower but I just know that’s going to sting like a mofo. Oh well.
As usual we have a crazy busy weekend ahead of us. While the little man has an overnight with grandma tonight I’m going to the Walker with friends, to catch a special screening of Fur: An Imaginary Portrait of Diane Arbus. Bright and early tomorrow morning I’ll retrieve the lad and whisk him off to a child’s birthday party…at a Chuck E. Cheese (we’ve never been, this promises to be quite the experience). Sunday we’re having our own party, Halloween-style, and the house needs some serious cleaning beforehand. I’m tired just thinking about it. So it’s no wonder I skipped the Marjane Satrapi reading last night. I’m extremely disappointed - I think her graphic novels* are amazing and inspiring - but I really needed to rest up.
Next weekend will be a busy one as well. We’re finally having another Twin Cities group flickr photowalk, in St. Paul (with a bonus surprise, but I’ll wait before I spring that bit of info) and it’s also Art Attack! at the Northrup King building. Should be good times.
Note: I wasn’t going to get into the graphic novels vs. comic books debate, but…I have no problem with calling ‘em comic books. Recently I read Brian K. Vaughan’s Ex Machina: The First Hundred Days. Clearly a comic book (and an awesome one at that, I’ll have to read the others now). But Marjane Satrapi’s stuff…well, it’s not glossy full-color (strictly black and white) and I’ve only read her work in hardcover, so it just doesn’t feel like “comic book” applies. I could be wrong.