Progress report

Good-bye, large kibbe-shaped* bandage on my finger, hello grotty puckered red incision with black stitches. I think I'll keep you discreetly covered for the next few days: infants, traumatization, avoiding, for the purpose of. To say nothing of pulled stitches in this double-glove weather. ETA: and dear lord do those pulled stitches hurt. I'm in agony for the first time since the operation. Am contemplating a return to the kibbe bandage.

* people's definitions of easy recipes make me despair. Easy if you have access to MAGGI® Mutton Bouillon cubes, which I have never seen, or Arabic seven spices (which differs from the Chinese like this), or a "meat electric mincer". I only wish I had a meat mincer of any description, because Happy Pig has a store on Bloor where they sell Happy Pig ends for much less than the sliced version, and I could make that party dish of my childhood, ham salad sandwiches, if only I had a meat grinder.
( Cut for erratic recovery )

(no subject)

I rarely watch movies and even less often American films. (They don't have subtitles. No, seriously. Full disclosure: I watched Sherlock with the subtitles on so I could tell what people were saying.) Thus I doubt I'll ever see Jonze's Her. But I might, just to see if this Buddhist interpretation, as posted by a Guardian reader in the comments section, is at all justified.
( To save space and boredom )