Sometimes I just feel like rambling

I really don't have an overwhelming topic to write about, but I feel like writing something.  Which is odd because both of my classes this semester are writing intensive and you would think that I wouldn't feel like writing at all.  But I do.  It's probably going to be a boring one too.  Oh, well.  In my technical writing class we are working on a "how-to" manual.  I wrote about making a magic mouthwash.  This is a mixture of medications that a person uses as a mouthwash to help heal and deaden the pain of severe mouth sores from chemo and radiation therapies.  It's not hard to make, but there is a trick to it.  I wrote out the steps, took pictures (thanks for the help Marty) of compounding it and have it pretty much completed.  I am awaiting feedback on the draft in order to fix whatever is wrong with it.  In my creative nonfiction class, I just handed in my interview/profile paper and had a mid-term meeting with my professor last week.  She gave me my review paper back, and it was a grade lower than I thought it was going to be.  She gave me a B on it, and marked what was wrong with it, of course.  I was a bit stunned because I didn't think I did that badly on it, and the small group feedback I got on it was all positive.  But, she said nope, not good. 

Here's my question:  Why do we do small group critiques if they are of no real useful help?  I had three fragments in my paper but the three other people in my group never found them.  That was the only real thing wrong with my paper, so I'm assuming that's why the mark down.  There were a two punctuation problems (one comma splice and one reversal of quote marks and the period), and the very subjective issue of my teacher thinking I needed one more sentence in my conclusion.  Just one?  However, she has a very liberal policy in that you can rewrite your paper once for a better grade.  Of course I rewrote it immediately, but I really struggled with what she called fragments.  I admit the other issues were correct, but the fragments....hm, I'm not sure.  I did, however, rewrite them so that they are painfully a complete sentence.  It ruins the voice of my paper, but I guess that is what will have to be done if I want an A.  I'm not about to stand my ground on a 1,000 word review. 

I'm still at a loss as to why small group critiques are useful.  It has been my experience when I am completely truthful that many of my fellow students don't take it well.  I try to be nice, I try to give them the benefit of the doubt, I really struggle with trying to understand why they are in a senior level college class and can't produce a paper that reflects that.  Again, I am by no means perfect as my review paper proves, but at my mid-term meeting when I was trying to answer her question as to why my paper was "not up to my high standards" as she put it, she said that some of the papers she didn't even grade because they were written so poorly.  Really?  How does that happen?  This isn't some freshman class where it is required to take it.  This is an upper level class, a foundational class in the professional writing track major, and a senior level class to boot.  How are these papers not all, at least most, complete and worthy of at least a B?  I was stunned in my little group the week before when all three students admitted they thought my writing was the best they've seen in their classes.  Holy crapbuckets!  Are you kidding me?  I though they were joking with me, and when I called them on it, they looked hurt.  Here, they had paid me this compliment and I didn't take them seriously.  I explained that I am by no means that good, but they disagreed.  I still think they are wrong, in fact I know they are wrong because the teacher did not agree with them on my review paper.

She did, however, want samples of my query letters for excellent examples in her next class reader.

I do understand that the small group critique might catch some of the really glaring errors, and maybe that's what it is meant to do.  But I find that my fellow students don't want to really come out and say what is wrong with the paper.  I know this is an age thing, but I feel that I really should tell them what is wrong with it.  I mark spelling errors, punctuation errors, sentences errors, tense errors, you get the point.  I mark it all.  At least to my understanding of the English language.  Again, I'm not perfect, but if there is an error in the paper I would have rather had it pointed out BEFORE I handed the dang thing in for grading.  But because the younglings don't want to, for whatever reason, point out my mistakes, or even worse, didn't SEE the mistake, so we just give each other compliments and go our merry ways.  Sigh, why bother?

This past Wednesday afternoon I rammed a hedge branch through my foot.  We were trimming the hedges along the garage down to a more reasonable height, and I had clipped one off about three inches off the ground.  At an angle.  I was standing up and just nipped the stupid thing off.  I should have cut it flush to the ground, but I just lazily cut it off.  It made the  most wonderful one-side spear point!  I went about the drudgery of hauling branches to the curb and forgot all about it because, really, why would I even think about something I've done hundreds of times without any problems?  Well, awhile later I had to crawl between the hedge line and the garage to trim the hedges in the back and when I stepped back there, my foot came down on top of the spear point.  Just my one foot with all of my weight on the front part of my foot.  I'm not a small and dainty girl by any means.  Hardy farm stock is what my mother used to say, and all that weight proceeded to not only shove that point through my imitation garden knock-off crocs, but about a half-inch into my foot too.  And, here's the worst part, I didn't register that I had done it.  I knew my foot wasn't landing on a flat surface so I kept trying to shove it down (!) to make it flat.  I was so hell-bent on trimming the back hedges it didn't occur to me that I had a branch submerged into my foot.  Until it started stinging and then it was really sticky.  (there's a fragment and the type she dinged me on)

I got the branches trimmed, hauled them out from behind the garage and when I stepped out onto the driveway, my poor husband (who does NOT like real blood in any means) just turned away from me and when I looked down there was copious amounts of blood running out of the little holes in the side of the shoe.  Now I know the real reason why imitation crocs have holes in them.... 

I put a plastic bag on my foot because I had to get to my bathroom and that is through the living room which has light beige/silver carpet.  I got into the tub, flushed my shoe and  my wound and then the pain really started.  I am amazed at how the mind can divert pain if you are not concentrated on it.  We really needed to get the brush to the curb by Saturday (we only have one, once a year pick up) and I didn't have any time off this week to work on it; I had mid-term projects for both classes, and work.  I had about three hours on Wednesday to get this done, and there was a lot of brush.  Here's the final picture:

     
Yes, that is the entire front lot line of my house and half of my neighbor's, too. 

Anyway, I pulled the debris out of the hole in my foot and slapped a band-aid on it.  I went back outside and continued to work.  Hardy farm stock, indeed.

It occurred to me on Thursday  morning as the hole was still bleeding that I might just need to see someone about it.  I went to the urgent care center at my workplace and they gave me some antibiotic ointment and told me to look out for infection.  Duh.  I then asked if I should get a tetanus shot and they thought it might be a good idea.  Not exactly instilling confidence in me, but then again, by the time they looked at it the worst of it was over and it really did only look like a small cut.  Friday, however, I woke and my toes, metatarsal, and arch are black and blue, and deep, deep purple.  The cut still looks small and innocent, but my foot looks like a sledgehammer was dropped on it.  And while I could walk pretty normally on Thursday, Friday proved to be a challenge.  I went to Occupational Health and had them look at it and she was a bit shocked.  And promptly gave me a Tdap (tetanus, diphtheria, and pertussis) shot.  My last one was in 1999 after I fell on my knee and scraped/cut it up on the side walk.  Again, another adventure in crappy footwear choices. 

I hope by Monday I will be able to walk on it because I have to go to class.  And, I'm not using a cane.  It's bad enough I'm the oldest student in both  my classes that I'm not going to reinforce that image with a cane.  And, I am now looking for a pair of garden shoes with a hard sole.  I guess foam soles and spears don't really mix well.  At least I wasn't bare foot.  Although I think I would have felt the spear point before real damage happened.  I think the cushiony foam just made it worse.

That's my boring blog for a Saturday afternoon.  Now, time for something fun.  I have several chain maille projects waiting for me.