The shades, on her face, show little gray, (that would be me), more or less, with football also in mind. Unless …
Gridiron going over or under, (like a zone defense), me looking grungy. But I digress.
My mom is not so much interested in colorful mascara or the Green and Gold, only watching with family when That Game turns up front and center, but she definitely does not bleed purple (and gold). So sans Skol, via very little Vikings, can we meet in the middle with Minnesota Gopher Maroon?
The side of her face recently showed a horse, and not just a pony, like the Four Horsemen of the Purple People Eaters foursome line, of a different color. Fearsome?
A tooth extraction when long in the tooth, unlike the knee injury suffered when you’re undercut by a very offensive lineman, will do that to you. As that temporary, like scab replacement teams, facial discoloration has a creep that like clock creep on those older — you know that second hand gaining a second here and there even if it takes a season — up the side of the face that will shake your grid iron beliefs, even if you have none.
Or more pertinently, the blood vessel breakage from such surgery that starts at the chin line and then proceeds up the jaw line and down the neck line, could also marr the look at holidays and wedding celebrations — not as mother of the bride, she simply has two sons, but for a niece. As centimeters become inches, or if the days become a couple of weeks, the marring becomes more of a concern.
— Would this be a Winter family abode for after New Year’s getaways? The name of the motel, viewed while on a Greyhound bus break, is/was somewhere between our season of the year and the name of our state. Farmer in the Dell? That name works, too, with our ag-oriented clan. The sign said it was not (no longer, I assume that meant) offering breakfast, but was adding a rooftop patio (both I think in vogue these days). And back in Hudson, via the trend, people have been showing up for each of them in T-shirts in three recent days.
All of which might attract someone “pastoral.” But maybe not Pope Francis. Even if he was not ailing, as he’d likely stay with the poor of the Ukraine and Hamas, and consider too those in Israel, but all things considered, it might be a bit too penthouse-suite posh. I think he is a plain Cheerios man, not dressed up with apple and cinnamon. But one thing I have never understood: Granted, I think there are more Catholics than virtually any other religion, but why for example moreso than Lutheran bishops, has his weight on the world stage been so … weighty. Maybe there is some papal envy weighing in here, as when I was growing up in the Missouri Synod that broke off from the ALCS, few in the pews would even acknowledge that they actually had a bishop as an overseer! Maybe it was just my particular church … —
On head-looks and their games on my end, one that is tilted along the lines of being challenged, I just was in the barber shop, which would be welcome news to mom and my largely shaggy gray. Most prominent on the upper part of the far wall, a cut across from the barber chairs, was a license plate that said simply “Vikings.” It was among many other pieces of sports and music and movies and more memorabilia that did not have much of any Packer presence until over near the corner. Various other Viking signs flow through their veins, even though its the offseason for most all but March Madness.
Some people have more pressing concerns than games. For mom, and a far greater dilemma than a tinted face, is the impact it could have on a hip replacement, though she has been told time and again these generally, as for a Green and Gold guard, go better than redoing a knee, always the knee, as famously said by legendary coach Lombardi. And Vince was no fan of the Vikings.
So on all fronts it means shoot for a pale-toned-skin Easter with family. Although I said hey, you all look fine. (The green of St. Paddy’s Day, us being German, becomes an insignificant factor, unless you’re talking about gangrene.)
To summarize, the purple hue of almost a full one side of her face came from having a tooth extracted on that side, and the purple tinge spread in coming days to not far from the eye, before just finally going away.
If that would have meant infection, that could have been trouble, as that would have messed with the timing of a hip replacement slated for about a week before St. Patrick would hold sway with his pot of gold, as that would nix putting in a new ball joint until it cleared up. And an epidermal in the interim first part of this year before surgery, which itself toyed with the timing of the surgeries since there needs to be a gap of about three months between one and the other. She still got one as a trial procedure.
That was around the time of the eternal question of long life: Should I wear a mask? At least for a while, to hide part of her face. She was not past that one after being a staunch wearer back in pandemic days. This time for cosmetic reasons, and again we’re not talking makeup, which she seldom wore anyway.
So I leave this long play-on-football-colors-words with this thought, taken from a silly (successfully) sign seen at a local bar above a sink in the bathroom, where there was no mirror, (I can only speak of the men’s john, not knowing of the female’s), so take heart: “You look fine.” So don’t check any makeup you might be wearing.