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Hello I rather like your site! I'm a clumsy cow so I get injuries a lot. I'll be taking pictures of them from now on though.

Here's a scan of a bruise that I got about 2 years ago. I scanned it because I was most proud of my bruise. I hope this isn't too lame for your site, but I felt the need to contribute. I don't mind if you don't use it or anything, but I like to show and tell! heheh.

The bruise was about 4 inches diameter, which isn't obvious on the picture, and was on my left thigh. I got it when I had smoked a little too much of the mellow stuff, and slipped on the first step of the stairs. My legs flew out from under me on the wonderful nylon carpet we had at that apartment, and I landed on the edge of a stair. Owch.

I was in shock for a bit and whined for about half an hour. After that I was extremely proud of the bruise as it went pink, purple, red, green, blue and black.

It took about a month to heal. I showed it to everyone I possibly could. It was a lovely bruise *sigh*.

Hope you like it.

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Editor's Notes:

Ouch, that is a lovely bruise.

Almost nothing is too lame for this site. Don't forget, this is about everyday life. A bruise that took a month to heal is significant in your life, even if just a little.

Mellow stuff? You obviously mean corn silk. I tried smoking corn silk once when I was a kid. Didn't work out just right. My tender lungs couldn't handle it. Not to mention I rolled it up in regular printer paper. That probably has more carcinogens than the raw corn silk. Every year, my grandfather had a whole barn full of the neighbor's tobacco hung up to dry, and I chose to try corn silk. Brilliant.

I didn't have an interest in cigars back then, I saw the trouble cigarettes were causing my father and only wanted to try corn silk because my grandfather told us he had smoked it as a kid. As a younger adult (when cigar smoking was all the rage) a friend and I would walk up to The Smoke Shop on Maryland Ave. in Annapolis. We'd walk back to work slowly, checking out the centuries old houses and streets and enjoying a decent smoke. I learned that I like Dominican cigars and that I have no desire to own a boat. Both valuable pieces of information that I assume will serve me well when I have my mid-life crisis.

Back to the farm, I can still remember the smell of that barn full of drying leaves. It was a very distinct smell, not unlike a walk-in humidor. But the dirt floor and old tractor parts gave a natural flavor that you don't get with the finished product in your modern strip mall smoke shop. Pungent and sweet but not overwhelming. Could have taken down one of those bundles and rolled a summer's worth of hand-made, Maryland tobacco cigars.

As much as I pretend to not be nostalgic for that farm where I put in so much work, I sure could go for a warm breeze in the tobacco drying barn for an hour right about now.

Sharky

Photos:
Brooze- scanned in Technicolor