In Which I Have Painted Myself Into A Bloggy Corner And Must Now Tapdance Until The Paint Dries

So, to play a little catch-up here....

When last we saw Our Heroine, she was valiantly trying to say Something of Great Worth and Lasting Import, whilst being Terribly Open About Her Own Life.

And then she got a terrible, terrible case of Cold Feet.

And as the feet have not warmed much, she has decided to dance for a while until they do. However, please bear in mind that dancing is not listed among her greatest attributes.

Anyhoo.

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The first little number I'd like to perform has to do with feet. Toes, to be exact.

The Girl and I had a little together time today. She received two gift certificates for pedicures for her birthday, and being the kind, sweet, loving daughter she can be at times is, she decided to let me use one of them and we went for a mother/daughter pedicure.

Now, believing I would not be able to afford such a luxury for a while, I had just trimmed my toenails down to the nubs the night before. This apparently offended the woman who did my pedicure greatly. She simply could not understand why I would do such a thing. And she continued to express her opinion on the subject the entire time I was there, berating me on not only the care of my lower digits, but my fingernails as well. Apparently I am sorely in need of a manicure, because my cuticles are in bad shape.

Unfortunately, I won't be getting said manicure or any other service at THAT location, thankyouverymuch. One can only take just so much mothering from someone one is paying to rub one's feet. Our pedicure specialist stepped over that very fine line and I had to call interference on the play.

It was either that or call it fourth down and punt her into the end zone.

I think I chose well.

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Our second number is a hot one, folks. Really hot. TOO DOGGONE HOT as a matter of fact.

You may remember me mentioning a while back my little bouts with "personal summers." I knew nothing of the magnitude of what I spoke at that time. Those little spurts of flame were mere precursors to the blazing infernos I am now subjected to on an almost hourly basis. They aren't lasting the five to ten minutes the earlier ones did, either. These puppies could provide a small city with enough heat for an entire winter.

I have renamed them Singer's Saharas.

Because not only am I hot, but when I get hot I get grumpy and irritable and hard to deal with. Well, more than I usually am. My moods swing like a pendulum, I can weep at the drop of a hat, and emotions run rampant.

Gee, don't you wish you were here? Because my husband wishes you were, so he could trade places with you...WHEREVER you are. He's not picky....really....

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And now for the finale....

This past week was Bosses' Day. I work with a GREAT bunch of people, and even though I'd forgotten all about it, they remembered. To celebrate, they had lunch catered in last Friday. We had a good, old-fashioned Kansas City Bar-B-Que feast of beef, ham, turkey, sausage, ribs and chicken. They got potato salad, green salad, baked beans, and homemade pumpkin cake for dessert.

Not only that, but I got a rose and a card from the group.

You gotta love 'em. Every single last one of their little pointed heads. Every one.

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And with that we move on. Blessed to be the mess I am. Blessed to be blessed.

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Philippians 4:12b-13

I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength.