I had a bit of a harrowing experience recently. I was home alone, so I’d had a leisurely morning. Having finished my coffee, I was about to take a nice hot shower. Making sure the water was just how I like it, I jumped in and closed the glass door.
Well, I didn’t exactly close it like I’d planned. When it was about 5 inches from being closed, it broke. Wouldn’t budge, either way. And I was in there. Naked. Did I mention home alone? Picture that.
Actually, don’t. You can take my word for it.
My leisurely morning had gone to hell. I was trapped. And phoning a friend wasn’t an option.
Neither was shutting off the water (which was dripping onto the shower matt and floor), and standing in there naked for the rest of the day.
Unfortunately necessity was not the mother of invention this case, but desperation being what it is, I was finally able to jam the door open a few more inches and squeeze my way through. Into the puddle on my bathroom floor.
I may be, for the foreseeable future, taking nice leisurely baths for a long while now. After all, what could go wrong?
Don’t answer that.
It’s baseball season! Or for me, Red Sox season since that’s the only baseball I watch. I’d mentioned in the past that for Mother’s Day, PurDude buys me a subscription to all the Red Sox games. That includes the pre-season games.
We’d been watching a pre-season game, where many different pitchers were trying out for a spot once the season started. After an outing, one of those pitchers was asked about a change in his form. He explained that the coaches had been working with him on how he starts his pitches, in an effort to keep his arm attached to his body.
I’m thinking that it’s probably a good thing, athlete or not, to . . . you know . . . keep your arm attached to your body.
When one of the newer players came to bat, the announcers said his name and we were confused. They put his name up on the screen as he stepped into the batter’s box, and we were still confused: Jhostynxon.
Now my name is Karen, so believe me, I’m not one to make fun of people’s names. But the announcers said that the player was asked about his name and said that his parents couldn’t decide between two names, so ended up taking letters from both.
Say what?
First, those parents should have their parent cards revoked.
Little Bob (working hard at forming his letters): B – o – b
Little Sue (working hard at forming her letters): S – u – e
Little Dan (working hard at forming his letters): D – a – n
Little Jhostynxon: I quit.
Watch what you say . . .
Saying “talk to the hand” is an insult that can hurt. But did you know that talking about the hand in an insulting way can boomerang that hurt right back to you?
I know. Now.
I used to have my nails done regularly, but for years now I’ve just been doing them myself. I generally keep up with them. I was going through my Insta feed and saw a few people posting some really pretty nail art, most spring inspired.
I looked down at my own nails and was mortified. I was way overdue for a touch-up. Clearly they’d been peeling for I don’t know how long.
So I posted a picture with a snarky comment about how beautiful {{cough, cough}} my hand looked.
that line at the bottom of my hand is just shade from the window treatment slats, btw
I guess my hand took offense, along the lines of “you think that’s horrible? Oh, honey, old my beer.”
By the time I realized that I had an infection under my rings, the whole finger was so swollen I couldn’t get the rings off. It was painful, and my whole hand was becoming involved. It was an excruciating process, but I (with the help of a few medicinal shots of Patron) bit the bullet and ripped the rings off of my finger so I could treat the infection.
But I will never, I mean never, body shame an appendage again. Lesson learned.
Hubs: These salmon patties are delicious.
Me: When I grilled salmon for dinner the other night, I made extra so we’d have leftovers. I think the grilled salmon makes a difference in the flavor.
Hubs: Are you going to put this recipe on your blog?
Me: Yes, since we are both happy with how they came out.
Hubs: I don’t see you taking as many food pictures as you used to.
Me: Well, I used to post 8 to 9 times a month, now that I’m only posting once a month, I don’t have to come up with as many new recipes.
Hubs: Now that you’re only posting one a month, they have to be really good recipes.
Me: Are you saying I come up with not good recipes?
Hubs: Umm, quick question: will it work out better for me if I go out and buy you flowers? Or have them delivered?
