There are certain individuals who cannot resist a good puddle. It doesn’t matter how big the puddle is, it must be entered with much enthusiasm. Don’t worry about how dirty or clean the water is either, that’s not the point. The point is to enter into the water and just enjoy it.
The problem with these individuals is that their joy upon entering the puddle cannot be restrained. It is as if the water loosens the control and restraint they show throughout their lives. And thus the great splashing must occur. It isn’t their fault really. I mean they seem unable to control themselves. I try to remind myself of this when I encounter these individuals. Well that and give them a wide berth because I’d rather not get splashed or soaked if it can be helped. For the record this strategy has worked fairly well so far in my life.
Until. Until I discovered that the four-footed one had found puddles. When she was younger she wasn’t sure what to make of them. Then she started walking through them, but not splashing. However now, well now she has found the joy in splashing through puddles. The bigger the splash the better. (I’m pretty sure her theory is to splash the water up over her back. I suspect this has very little to do with her getting wet and a great deal to do with getting as many casualties as she can.)
It is impossible to give the four-footed one a wide berth, not when she’s attached to me via a leash. And this time of puddles are a given. Pulling her away from one results in letting her get close or into another one. It also means that this time of year I end up getting wet, from ankles to above the knees, depending upon the size of puddle she has managed to find. So if you should see me out and about wearing rain pants and there is no rain present, please just don’t comment on my odd attire. Just know it’s to protect myself. From the splasher that suddenly entered my life.
I made a minor mistake today. Well it didn’t start off as a mistake, more or less a fashion choice. And in and of itself, it wasn’t a huge decision and for most people it would never been a mistake. But of course I am not most people (frankly when you get down to it, none of us are most people because we are all individuals) so it ended up being a mistake for me.
You see friends while I was getting ready to head off into my day, I opted to wear rings on my fingers and thumbs. I do that. I like rings. The problem is I have lupus which leads to finger issues. I also have arthritis and sadly my knuckles are starting to show signs of it. Today was one of those days where I could start off wearing my rings no problem (when my hands aren’t too bad they are actually a bit too loose on my fingers) and yet by the end of the afternoon I knew I had made a mistake.
But I’m a confident sort of girl (it happens with years of dealing with these issues) so I figured I’d handle this without too much fuss. I tried a to gently tug them off, but it was a no go. No big deal, I can just run my hands under cold water, even though my hands are already cold. A friend suggested not to use water in case my rings slide off under running water were lost down the drain and instead offered ice as the solution in the past. Neither worked.
One of Beloved’s sisters swore that butter, preferably the unsalted type (I’m afraid I didn’t ask why so I don’t understand the reasoning to it), was a sure-fire way to remove any ring stuck on a swollen finger, no matter how badly messed up the knuckle might seem. Clearly my fingers and knuckles missed this memo. And now, despite my confidence, I was beginning to realize that I had made a mistake. Rings were a mistake. They could become a costly mistake if my fingers decided to continue to impersonate a hot-dog that plumbs up when it cooks.
Thankfully just as the last shreds of my confidence were slipping off, I realized my fingers weren’t swelling any more. Sure they weren’t going down, but they weren’t getting worse so I reasoned I could just wait it out. They’d being to return back to their original size and I’d just be able to slip them off. So that’s why despite being all set for bed I’m wearing my rings, earrings (I couldn’t get my fingers to undo them) and fancy necklace (again, clasps can be hell for me). So hey, I might not be wearing fancy nightwear, but I’m all jeweled up!
It was all about big hair in the house today. I mean big, big hair. No we weren’t reliving the 80s. We also weren’t living the 60s or rocking beehives. And no one suddenly developed a need to back-comb hair.
Instead it was a day of big hair thanks to static. Static in the air because the air is rather dry and just about any movement results in incredible fly-away hair. Well in the case of the court-footed one, massively static-filled ears. She could almost take off with how big and pouffy her ears have become.
She isn’t a fan of the big hair or big ears. Her answer to solve the problem? Rub her face and ears all over the floor and curtains. Because it builds up more static. I guess she is working on the theory that once you’ve reached your maximum level things just sort of deflate. If it works you will find me rubbing my head on the curtains because I really am not a fan of the fly-away hair.
Of course when we get to the rainy season my hair will hang lank and straight and again I shall complain. Just as I’m sure the four-footed one will take her limp fur as a bit of an insult. We will probably yearn for some of the “body” our hair/fur gets with is dry air. But right now we aren’t thrilled with it. Shocking isn’t it?
Beloved made the causal observation today that society has become a little too casual in what is acceptable public behavior these days. There was a time, he pointed out, when personal grooming habits would never take place in public. Nowadays we are blessed with watching people shave, do their hair and put on makeup while driving their vehicles.
Just today he witnessed a person eating cereal while navigating the roadways. ThIs person, Beloved pointed out, was supposed to be paying attention to the road, not the milk dribbling down his chin. Of course Beloved was also annoyed because this person was chewing with an open mouth.
He also was blessed to witness another indivudal do some excavating of her nasal cavities. Granted he did not need to watch this, and yet like a person going past an accident he felt appalled and amazed that someone would do this. In a coffee shop. A public coffee shop.
Between these images and his description of people’s underwear (they were displaying them through holes in sir clothes or low riding pants) I am wondering if maybe we haven’t gotten a bit too casual about causal behavior. Or am I just getting too old?
I hate shoe shopping, I consider it a necessary evil in life. Sure some people have walked barefoot enough that the bottom of their feet are kind of the soles of some, shoes. I happen not to be that kind of person.
So I bought some shoes. Shoes which should be comfortable and require no breaking in. I know this because I’ve had these types of shoes before. Evidently what happened before is not necessarily the rules we operate on today. You see I wore my nice shoes today and promptly gave myself some charming blisters. The kind of blisters that have wept and bleed and make walking a rather interesting endeavour now.
I know, I have no one to blame it myself. I shouldn’t have assumed that shoes would be comfortable enough. Just because the same type of shoes were kind to me before doesn’t mean they always will be. So my blisters are yet another lesson or reminder in the dangers of making assumptions. Because evidently I have not grasped the dangers of making assumptions and acting upon those assumptions. Or rather I get the concept, however I believe it can’t happen to me. Until it does and then I want to moan and complain, but about what? My own decisions? That seems rather silly to do. So I will simply tend to my blisters and reassess my feelings around shoe shopping.
I have a bit of an issue on my hands today. Someone gifted me with some lovely lounge pants. A variety of colors and materials me up this lovely gift of several pairs of lounge pants. The pants themselves aren’t my issue. Actually that would be easy.
Instead friends the issue I have on my hands is this, can I wear my lounge pants even if I’m not going to be lounging? Or are lounge pants restricted to lounging or resting? This could create the awkward moments of having to find a way to quickly change out of my lounge pants into my non-lounging pants. I mean the rushing around would not be considered lounging so you see, it’s a bit of an issue.
And while we are talking about this stuff, I have some reading socks. And I must confess sometimes when I put them on, I don’t really consider if I will be reading or not. Now I admit I do some reading each day so it’s somewhat okay I guess.
But when they tell me what my various clothing items are to be used for, I feel guilty and conflicted. Because there aren’t any hard fast rules around wearing the clothes for things that are basically off label. I know when my doctor prescribes me meds for off label purposes there are rules around use extra. Maybe the designers should consider something like that. Or at least provide the “technicalities” of this for people like me? I’m asking for me and my guilty conscience.