Well, I attended the Nutcracker ballet performance last night. In perhaps what might be described as a minor Christmas miracle, the scab on my face decided to slough off, making me look less Halloweenish and more festive.
And don't go, "Eeewwww!"about me writing about the scab sloughing off. Come on. We're horse people. We deal with oozing abcesses and sheath cleaning. What's a scab on a face, right?
At any rate, losing the scab left me to deal with only a slightly swollen cheek and a black eye. And most of the bruising is on my upper eyelid, so I just added a swath of deep gray eye shadow to the lid of the other eye and I looked fine. Or I looked like Catwoman. But nonetheless I wasn't embarrassed to attend the Nutcracker.
In fact, while I sat in the audience, I kept imagining what a horsey version of the famed yuletide ballet would be like. For example, instead of a magical nutcracker, dear Clara would instead be given a magical leather punch. (You know, something truly useful around the barn). And then, when she's transported to the Land of the Sweets, it would instead be the Land of the Treats. You can imagine the tutus and costumes for that! The entire second act would revolve around ballerinas twirkling and toe-dancing dressed as carrots, apple-flavored biscuits and Oat Munchies.
I also had this vision where the dancers were clomping around on stage in muckboots and lace-up ropers, but I kept that to myself. If I'd shared that idea with my husband he might've thought I'd landed on my head harder than previously thought.
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