Guess who has been having ADVENTURE?

Not me. I have been having doctor's appointments. But that is fun in its own way, because I get to drive around in my truck and sing along to Black Sabbath with the windows down*. There are a couple of musicians who have the same sort of short mid-pitch vocal range that I have; Ozzy is one of them. Miss Piggy is another. I like the time alone, and car singing is good warm-up for my storytimes.

REEEFLECTS IN THE SKYYYY WARN YOU YOU'RE GONNA DIIIIIIE

Anyway, the doctor visits. One of the things I do with Zenny to teach critical thinking and descriptive language is to sit and tell her what she looks like. Kids love hearing about themselves, and it helps to learn more adjectives than "cute" and "pretty". So I take her on my lap and trace her features with my finger, "You have strooong eyebrows, and looong yellow eyelashes, and laaarge blue eyes," etc. So of course she started doing this back to me, running her little hands over my face and saying, "You has a biiiig forehead, and a huuuuge nose, and a nipple right on yous face." Damn it.

So today I had the nipple** taken off by a dermatologist. This was a bit of a feat, because they didn't tell me when my appointment was, wouldn't answer my calls, sent a confirmation text the night before for a time that could not be worse, closed their parking lot, and smiled like sharks while asking if I had found my way from the temporary parking area easily. The temporary parking area was a patch of grass way up the hill, marked with a wet piece of paper taped to a box with "temp park" scribbled on it in yellow marker and an arrow pointing straight down at the ground. "I am smarter than a parking lot," I told them, and then they said, "So would you like an excision or a shave biopsy?" and I went, "Whut," and they shark-smiled again. I thought about pushing over their floor-to-ceiling Botox display. I did not do that, though, because a) I am a nice librarian and b) I had had two G&Ts the night before and was convinced I smelled like a hobo even though I had thoroughly bathed, brushed, and gargled, so I was sitting absolutely still and holding my breath, which takes a lot of concentration. Turns out they wouldn't have noticed even if I had been swigging gin in the waiting room, though, because they used a cauterizing iron and the room filled with the smell of burning skin. I went back to work just in time for toddler time and said, in front of 44 moms and babies, "Don't mind the bandage, I just had my nipple taken off." Then I had to explain, and it wasn't as fun for the kids as Itsy Bitsy Spider, even though the story contained many of the same gestures. So today isn't working out very well for me.

Coming soon: terrible pictures of my face.



*Because my Freon is leaking. It is so hot and wet this summer that the pavement is steaming and the windshield fogs up unless the windows are all the way down, creating something like the windy inside of a cotton candy machine for my hair.

**The nipple was a mole. On my face. Not one of my actual nipples. I have an unremarkable number of actual nipples, and none of them are on my face unless I'm using a jump rope***.

***Lies. Attempt to sound fun and bouncy; truth is, I am in no risk of hitting myself in the face with a walnut in a sandwich baggie. Give it ten more years and they'll be bread bags, and then we'll have some jump rope action.