Just fooling. Actually, I don’t have a bruised heart but a bruised rib. Though there are moments when I think the rib is broken with a very sharp end sticking into my lungs, why don’t I go to a doctor? Really, my rib is only bruised.
We started a new blogging program at the high school. It is about women's literature in the 19th and 20th centuries. It will be interesting to see what the grade 12 class comes up with.
(This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.)
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