stephbg: I made this! (cat herder)

I shopped for clothes, and I think I liked it. But I probably won't do it again. (Warning – this gets depressing.)

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stephbg: I made this! (cat herder)

The next treatment goal on which I plan to spend all my medical spoons is hydrotherapy. I don't expect to be back in the pool doing kilometres of laps any time soon, but I'll see if I can do some stretches in warm water that aren't currently possible on dry land. More on that later, but before I can do that I need some bathers (aka swimmers, cossies, swimming costume, bathing costume), as it's many years since I've owned a pair that fit. Once I've got bathers I can cross the bridge of making appointments at the physio and somehow getting my carcass there on some kind of schedule.

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stephbg: I made this! (Default)
Last Thursday I dropped off a dress at the local dressmaker's to repair a split seam. I hasten to note that it was not a load-bearing seam, but the interface between two fabrics of dissimilar tensile strengths. Said breech occurred sometime during either its first wash or its first wearing, but being an inexpensive Internet purchase it was just not worth the bother of sending it back.

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stephbg: I made this! (Default)
I should have done this yesterday, but in the tradition of Interesting Medical Conditions I was in no condition yesterday to report on my Interesting Medical Condition. So this is a bit of a catchup.

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stephbg: I made this! (Default)
Or possibly 1987. It seemed important at the time; just a little thing, the difference between Year 11 and Year 12. I'm the one on the right, with the most hair. I'm either 15 1/2 or 16 1/2. I suspect the latter, although I'm torn because I think that was the year that my date Malcolm (sourced independently from ballroom dancing I might add, so worth 10 mere boy classmates) went home with my friend (hmmm) Sandrine (not pictured). That does it, it was 1996 (oops) 1986.

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stephbg: I made this! (Default)
In a recent attack of poutiness--combined with a lack of late-season cold-weather options of which I was not already hearily sick--I declared that I had nothing to wear. Specifically, nothing fabulous. This is not a new problem.

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