I give you… the paella mobile.
Lest you all think all this new-found fame is going to my head, I just wanted you to know that after a long day of glamourous meetings and interviews, being wined and dined, and otherwise being made a huge fuss over, I still have my sox life to contend with.
Weird thing about sox. Even though I only ever do my laundry at home and there is nowhere for errant sox to go missing, they still go missing.
The other thing is that, although I only ever have two types of sox – shorty sports sox that just go up to the ankle and somewhat taller everyday sox – they are a total bugger to pair up. Because each year I get a new 6-pack of each and they are always slightly different except that THEY ARE ALL BLACK.
I sometimes think I’ll go blind trying not to pair up this year’s sox with older ones. Especially when I’ve done a whack of laundry and end up with THIS.
I can’t wait to get back to wearing sandals…
Forget equinoxes and time changes, for me autumn doesn’t officially arrive until the first day I have to put on shoes. Which was today. Had to go out to the hospital this morning for the monthly chemo port cleaning and, while the heavy overnight rain had stopped, it was still a bit blustery and coolish. Dammit. I didn’t need to wear a jacket, but bare legs and mostly bare feet seemed like pushing it, so out came the dreaded tights and the (very dusty) purple shoes.
Not bad, I guess, but some years I’ve managed to keep wearing sandals until the last week of November. Basically it depends on if it rains.
Anyhow, I got a taxi over to the hospital. It’s different since they changed the port cleaning location – I used to go to the chemo infusion room in the evenings when they weren’t so busy and now I go to the blood lab building between 12-1pm. It’s actually a bit better not having to go to the chemo room, but it’s still a monthly reminder of THE CANCER and that the reason I have to keep this port in for five years is that they expect that I’m going to need it again…
But not today. There were two nurses on duty when I walked in and they immediately asked why I was dressed totally in black. I said I wasn’t, that I was wearing purple shoes and red earrings, but that didn’t satisfy them. Then I realised they must have thought I was in mourning, so I told them I was mourning the sun. Cracked them up. And they also relaxed, no longer worried I was a recent widow on top of having a chemo port in my chest.
So now that it’s autumn (it’s not officially winter until the Christmas lights are turned on) I need to go through my pathetic array of “warm clothing” and see what I can pull together. Even though it actually got up to 20º this afternoon. But I don’t want to buy anything new until I lose another ten kilos…
How’s the weather where you are?
On Saturday afternoon while out on my tapas tour with Rachel (now aka @JaenTapas) we spotted the shoes on the right dangling up there and I stopped to take a photo of this curious sight. I put the pic up on Twitter when I got home and probably would have forgotten all about it, except that two days later (yesterday) I spotted another pair of shoes up in the air which seemed, well, weird. So I also put that on Twitter and got a few responses including one from Baron Grim who left a Wikipedia link about shoe flinging which also mentioned “shoefiti”. Seriously – shoefiti?
Have you ever seen this before?
I’ve been a nail-biter all my life and years ago came to realise that the state of my emotional life could easily be read on my fingertips. Times when I’ve felt confused, upset, helpless, etc … no fingernails. But when things have felt more “under control” I would suddenly find myself having to file my nails. Other times I have taken matters into my own hands (sorry…) and, with the application of some lightly tinted nail gloss and a smidge of willpower, have managed to abstain from nail biting long enough to acquire at least the outward appearance of feeling calm and collected. Which actually helps me feel more at ease. A quick glance at my pretty polished fingernails (as opposed to raw fingers ends chewed to a nubbin) always assures me that things are going well, and also gives me a sense of accomplishment. A few weeks ago I turned to the nail gloss again (aptly named “popcorn”) for a bit of help, and as my nails grew the rest of my life started falling into harmony. Coincidence???
You can see the state of my nails (and my life) below the links…
~ image from College Humor ~