Tuesday, March 13, 2007
The Weekend
The overcast weather is conducive to nesting and I am content to work on waxes and catch up on writing. We allow John to sleep late but when he wakes, his cough and congestion are considerably worse and my focus for the day is to get him antibiotics for the sinus infection. The need to find doctor clouds my morning but Art is not so concerned and the logistics are not easy. John busies himself with scissors, poking ventilating holes in the plastic top of one of his beetle’s containers. I am startled from my waxes when John exclaims about the blood!
The scissors have slipped and he has sliced his left forefinger deeply and almost completely around. I look at the clean but extremely deep slice and pale. My maternal inclination is to rush John to emergency and get the cut stitched together, but the cut is clean and blood is oozing not gushing. John holds a paper towel tightly over his finger while Art hurries out to get bandages and disinfectant. (I have the remembered to bring Neosporin from home.) The next several hours are spent alternatively checking on John’s finger, the color of his nasal mucus and making phone calls to find out where best to take him, should we deem it actually necessary to go to either emergency or to a doctor over the weekend. The afternoon slips slowly by and we do nothing. John complains little and I return to work. Sometime later, I hear a raspy sound and look up to see John sawing wooden chopsticks with a serrated knife. His intention is to cut splints to immobilize his already wounded finger. I ask him, none too gently, if he wants to slice open another finger today? Art bicycles up to Shintoshin to escape it all.
With so many things going wrong today, I am happy when Art calls later on and suggests that we meet him in Shintoshin for dinner? John and I are out of our apartment in a flash, walking the ¾ miles to meet him. When we connect, Art asks if I have any cash? I have very little. This actually frees us and we search for a restaurant that will accept credit cards. It’s a Saturday night, we are in a very fashionable district and there are many inviting restaurants. We choose an upscale Izakaya and are seated at the counter, their only available seats. We are happy to be watching the preparation of the exotic entrées and Art does his best to order us many unusual dishes. The service is first class and the waiter kneels to be at our level when he takes our orders. The décor is ambient, a mixture of contemporary with traditional. Even John has a memorable evening. The three of us eat and drink to our hearts content and the bill is less than $75.00 for us all, including tax and tip.
Sunday: John is still under the weather, and his finger is not yet throbbing with infection. His wish is to sleep in so Art and I bicycle together to Starbucks and relax into another Starbuck Sunday. Several hours vanish as I write an article on shopping in Naha, for Okinawa.com. We return back to our apartment, read, write and check the weather for Monday. Sunshine is predicted for Monday. Our plans are to take the ferry to Tokashiki Island, Monday morning.