For Dad

This one's for Dad and the summers spent at campgrounds digging splinters out of my feet with his Swiss army knife. Today, I got a splinter out of my foot on my own. Those of you who know me well enough and understand my random though process may expect this to be followed by an essay about how the splinter is a metaphor for all of the obstacles that I have overcome this year, etc., etc., etc. But actually, I'd rather just tell you about the splinter. First, I couldn't really see the bottom of my foot, so I had to sit in a semi-yoga position that I think might be called the "half lotus." Second, I didn't have a Swiss army knife, so I had to use an oversized butcher knife. Ignore the fact that yoga = peace and knives tend to equal violence. I'm pretty sure it was probably a kodak moment. And that is all. Hugs all around.