scars

After a couple of days at work where staff members have accidentally cut body parts with knives or slicers both in and outside of work we all ended up gathered in the office this afternoon for an impromptu scar sharing conversation. There was a wrist drilling scar, a missing pinky finger tip and a face plant scar on a nose. I showed my predominately hand centric scars and the one on my ear (as a three year old I stood on my sisters rocking chair and ROCKED until I could take no more and fell ear first onto the corner of a coffee table). I looked to the next person in anticipation of their scar stories (I love scars) thinking I was completely finished with showing my scars when one of the girls said "don't forget the one on your neck!", then another says "yeah, I think it's really interesting, it adds to your mystery". I responded with my usual flippant sarcasm; "I just thought it made me a hormonally imbalanced teenager." Then I responded to my first instinct and reached up and ran my finger along it.

I'd completely forgotten about that scar.

Speaking of scars and things that are interesting and mysterious I was in a store today and a guy walked past me in quite a rush carrying boxes. In big cursive black writing from elbow to wrist was the word "Queenslander...." with silver shading (yes, the '....' was part of it). I had to ask. So as he passed me I pointed to his arm and asked; "Is that... real?!" and he replied proudly; "It sure is!" I then suffered a rare involuntary verbal thought vomit because I grinned and said, "Wow! That's cah-ray-zy!" He looked back at me very briefly and blankly saying "Why is it crazy?"

He was too far past me for me to try and explain to him that, well, if it were me, it would say "South Australian...."