Tipped Toe

This is why you have to clean and organize your house:

Poor bruised, battered, broken toe

It hurt like everything.  I was in agony, agony, AGONY I tell you!!  I think it’s broke.

Call 911!!  I need an ambulance!  Oh, wait, who am I yelling to????  There’s no one else here.  Hmmmmm, think!  What to do???  It’s so hard to think when you’re in AGONY!

I know!  I’ll lay on the floor, and simply expire from the pain.  And when someone comes looking for me, they’ll find my cold, broken body, stretched out on the floor, in a position of supplication…  pleading for help, and non came.   Ha, ha!  That’ll teach ’em a lesson!  Oh, wait!  Teach who a lesson????  I’ll be dead.  Okay, not the best plan....

I decided to fall onto the bed, clutching my foot, howling in agony.  Did I mention I was in AGONY???

Once I recovered sufficiently, to be able to arise: I photographed the scene.

Here is a mug shot of the dastardly fiend, who’s responsible:

murderous fiend

How dare you be in MY way??  Well, what do you have to say for yourself??  Speak up!

Great, cat’s got it’s tongue.

I wrote an account of the tragic events, and gathered the evidence.

Can I sue the chair?  (I’m sure I’d win!)

Update:  Poor toe is getting better..  Still sulking about not winning the suit for a million dollars, against the chair, but healing nevertheless.

5 Photos, 5 Stories part two

Sherry and me, around 1963

This is my Aunt Sherry, and I on my Grandma’s porch.  My Grandma – who is her mother’s porch.

Sherry is only 5 months older than me.  And no, I never called her Aunt!  Except to tease her, and try to make her feel old!  Ya know, since she’s a  WHOLE 5 MONTHS!! older than me!

I’m on the right.  I think I’m looking down, and frowning because we were comparing our ugly Flintstone feet.

See how I’m kicking that right foot out??  I’m comparing how fat my foot is to hers.  It’s a whole family pastime, to whip out our piggies and see whose is the ugliest this year.  You should see all my aunts gathered together!

What? your family doesn’t do this?  Well, sorry for you, then!

Who pedals your car, when you’re all together???

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garden girl

I have a garden girl. How do I  know?  

 

 

I captured her hands, transplanting flowers.

Not PP!

Also, I’ve seen glimpses of her little  feet in the block fence.

2 fat feet

I surprised her planting solar flowers,

Sneaked up on her weeding:

Again, not PP

And keeping her flower population under control:

By this time, you know who it isn’t.

I’m so happy to have my own personal, gorgeous garden girl.

So, now my garden should be the showpiece of the park!

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Pudding Pop’s Playful Pastimes

PP loves to come to my house.  Whenever I visit her, she asks, “Howzz, howzz?”   (And who can blame her??? I’m an awesome Omie!!!  If I do say so myself, who shouldn’t!!)

And, I love to have her!

One of her favorite activities:

Playing with rocks!  When DD1 told me that, I couldn’t believe it!  But it’s true!

Picking them out of the garden, throwing them,

hiding them,

The Hidey Hole

Sleeping (!!!) with her pet rock!  No pix of this, because she was in the bed with me, as I was trying my best to sleep too!  In a twin bed!!  But here’s the rock.  At least it is smooth, and no one ended up with a goose egg!  Yay!

Night-night lovey

More of her favorites: Taking a bath.  A daily must do!!

Enjoying herself at children’s Museum.

Picking perfect periwinkle posies.

Purple Periwinkles

 

Ring around the rosie, with a pole as partner.

Decorating Omie:

Decorating Omie

I’m a more than willing canvas!

 Chalking a masterpiece.

And last but not least:

Eating is an all time favorite!

No pix of that either, since it would require showing her face.  DD1 nixes that for security reasons.  I certainly understand after hearing some horror stories.

Hope you enjoyed seeing how my precious plays!

Bucket Betide

I don’t know what betide means, or even if its a real word.  But  I don’t care.  I like the sound of it, so here it stays.

This bucket has been in the corner of my bathroom for a l-o-n-g time.  Like, before Dec.  That’s only 5 months, not too bad, right?  (Probably depends on who you ask!)

Now, I see it every time I go into the bathroom.  I’ve even tripped over it once or twice. but have I bothered to do anything about it?

Well, what do you think?  Since I’m writing a post about it, you’d be right in assuming it’s still there, still in the way.

I’m not even positive what’s in there.  I peeked in once, but didn’t feel like pursuing it.  I’m kinda scared to fully investigate.  One thing in there is a towel, so I’m thinking by now, it’s gotta be stinky and covered with mildew.  Eeeww!

Yes, there is a towel, a measuring cup, and a long handled spoon.  I saved that because I know I can sanitize it!  (Not sure what the purple thing is, I didn’t dig down that far!)

If PP has gotten along this long without that towel, I’m quite sure she’ll survive without it.

My thinking is, to just grab the whole bucket, hold my nose, and run outside with it.  Maybe bag it up whole, and go straight to the dumpster.  Do not pass Go, do not collect $200.  (oh, if only I could collect money for taking out the trash!  I’d do it 5 times a day!)

The bucket went bye bye.  RIP

the “c” word

Yes I did the “C” word. It’s so awful I don’t even want to tell you what it is.

Oh ok. Cook. Happy now?

I was hungry. No more cereal or instant oatmeal. No frozen waffles etc. What was I to do?  I had to make a decision to get over myself, my laziness, and be a grown up.  It was agony.

How stupid would it be if Brother or Sweet friend came over, and found me dead from starvation, 3 feet away from a kitchen full of food??  Even if it WAS raw food that needed to be cooked??

So… here’s proof:

The pictures cannot lie.  I cooked, in real life!

Good thing I’m into all this homemaking stuff.

I knew where everything was!  AND how to turn on the stove!  And I didn’t set off the fire alarm!!

(I was barefoot, and in the kitchen, but….. haha, you won’t catch me the 3rd thing!!)

All in all, I call it a success.

Bad, Bad Shoes.

(Did you hear the scolding tone of the title? I totally meant it to sound like I was yelling at a dog for messing in the house.) Look closely at my shoes, see any problems??

{The sole was peeling away from the sides.}

(I messed up with these photos.  At that time, I didn’t know if you deleted them from the library, that they disappeared from the post.    I know, you might think it’s a “DUH!”     But, to me it wasn’t.     So, now I have missing pix in some posts.      And, due to the fact that the shoes went in the trash, I can’t recover the pix.)   

 

I knew they were old, but really????  This is why I prefer to go barefoot, but the hot sidewalks are brutal here in FL!!  Okay, so I bought a new pair, since I can no longer wear my beloved ugly sandals, due to my falls. So, then what happens to the old ones?  Throw them back into the far forsaken corner of the closet?  Under the bed? In the vast wasteland under the sink?  Those would be my former slob choices.     No! Be a non-slob and throw them away! Alright, alright! Quit nagging!  There, they’re in the trash. Happy now??

Shattered

I’m shattered to report a triumvirate  meeting of tile floor, purse, and glass.  (yes, grownup glass glass.  How do I have any of those left??)  It was a splintered outcome.

 

wikimediacommons

Of course, then I couldn’t walk barefoot.      

Yep, ma barefeetz

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So, I sat down in my trusty recliner, while people less clumsy than me, swept, mopped, and generally de-disasterised.

A little afraid to let PP walk around barefoot, I wanted to cordon off the area.  Maybe I should have shuffled around the area first, but I was assured that all the glass was gone.  So far, so good.  I’ll keep you apprised of the situation.

Update:

I have been walking around barefoot, and no glass in my feet. YAY!!

PP has been walking around barefoot, and no glass in her feet.  Triple YAY!!!

🙂

All is well in my barefoot paradise.

Saturday I:

swept the living room.

Monday morning I:

mopped in front of the recliner and high chair.

Little jobs keep the house from being a total destruction zone.

(Of course, little jobs don’t make it a bed of roses either!  But, we can walk across the floor without sticking to it.  I’ll take it.)