Fruits Of My Labours

Well, I had a fairly productive day today. I managed to sew up 4 skirts, including one three tiered ruffle skirt. None were any great fashion miracle, but I only spent about $70 for all four. One of the skirts is very similar in both fabric and style to one I tried on at a small Halifax shop a few weeks ago, and the pricetag on that one was $110. I thought I had taken it off the sale rack, and when they were tallying up the bill, luckily I realized the price of it! Mine cost me under $30 for a beautiful eyelet linen blend.

Of course, no task is complete without Henry's help...he was fascinated by the sewing machine's movement and while he tempted fate often, he managed not to sew his paw to a skirt...he also wanted to shove his face into my sewing kit, under the fabric, through the tissue paper patterns, and as show here, through my sewing machine arm.

Of course the highlight of the day was when he jumped up on the ironing board and knocked the hot iron off onto the carpet. Nice move. Then I had a ragged melted patch of carpet in front of the hall closet, and carpet melted onto my iron. The carpet is not quite noticeable unless you know it's there, but you can certainly feel it with bare feet, much like burnt ends of nylon rope. fuck. I was able to get most of the carpet off my iron, by heating it up again and rubbing it over brown paper. I'm sure the neighbors thought I was killing someone by the roars that came out of me. I was quite ready to punt Henry off the balcony at that point. He got a time out in the bathroom until I felt that urge pass. Then he tiptoed around me for several hours, cowering whenever I spoke, so then I felt bad and had to snuggle him. He was pretty good for the rest of the sewing, with just a few gentle reminders.

Now the big decision is which one to wear tomorrow. Nice to have choices.

Boys On New Bedding

I went out for some retail therapy last night...started out for just potting soil and a few new pots...came home with new bedding for my bed...go figure. These are the boys on the new comforter...Henry looks like a tool in the first photo as I caught him just about to yawn...hahahaha

Weekend Musings

What a neglectful blogger I've become...and what a crackbook Facebook addict I have evolved into. There isn't a day that goes by that I am not checking out Facebook. And when I'm home and can access it (no access at work) there is hardly 10 minutes that go by where I am not refreshing the page to see if anything new happened. I know. Pathetic.

The power was off this afternoon for an hour or so, kind of an involuntary Earth Hour. The power goes off quite often up here, often once a week. Real pain in the ASS I might add. Not only do I have to reset all the clocks in the house (and microwave, stove, VCR etc) I have to record the outgoing message on my answering machine each time. Sometimes I forget and people call only to hear "We are unable to take your call. Please leave a message after the tone" by some unknown voice. It could be remedied by inserting a new 9v battery into the darn thing, but that would involve me remembering that I need one when I'm actually at the store.

I am "attending" Earth Hour tonight. For those who don't know what it is, you are simply asked to turn off the lights in your home for one hour, from 8-9pm, local time, in an effort to save energy.

Power being off also seems to mean people forgot that they passed their driver's exam. When I took it (and passed, no mistakes) I quite clearly recall that when the power is out, all traffic light intersections become a 4 way stop. Apparently not everyone remembers that one. I ran down to the video store to bring back some movies (thankfully they had a slot as everything is closed until the power comes back on) and in the space of time it took for me to park, slide the movies in, and then get back out to my car, some dumbass had an accident at the intersection I had just passed through. It was a cabbie, probably tearing off for a fare somewhere. Or more likely, he didn't know about the 4-way stop thing. Most of our cabbies in town are African immigrants (why, I do not know...we are in northern Canada) so maybe they don't do that in Africa....who knows?

Henry continues to improve behaviour wise...but still ever so slowly. His most annoying habit now is waking me up early. Sometimes that involves standing on my chest. Other times it involves rooting around in my room until he gets something he knows he isn't permitted to have, and then chew it up, and maybe even drop it on my head. He also enjoys playing the blinds like a piano too, however that has diminished somewhat. He is also a very vocal kitten, and thoroughly enjoys the sound of his own voice. I think he enjoys the sound of mine somewhat less, particularly when it is yelling at him to STOP IT. PUT THAT DOWN. LEAVE IT ALONE. GO AWAY. STOP TOUCHING THAT. NO. and so on...

Stormy, on the other hand, is his usual mellow self, initiating contact at his will. His dry skin winter itch has not subsided much, and I may have to break down and actually buy some fish oil capsules to stuff down his throat...ew...

I have been severely neglecting a course I'm taking through Athabasca University. I had signed up for it last summer when I was in my old job that required me to do basic counselling with clients. It took so very long to get the paperwork processed (a multitude of reasons, beginning with my then supervisor/boss ignoring the paperwork for weeks on end) that it didn't actually begin until January of this year. Now I'm not working in that job, and the course is somewhat irrelevant to my current job, so my interest has declined accordingly. However, the fact remains that since I have not withdrawn, I need to finish or face an incomplete/failure. And I can't have that...so today I hope to manage two chapters and the related notes/study questions. The big issue is that there are no specific deadlines, other than you need to complete the course by June, and even then you can get an extension. For me, that is too open...I will fuck around until the last minute if I can without that structure. There are online quizzes and assignments...none of which I have even peeked at. For shame...

I guess I should get back to the books again then...I miss the Dana Porter Library in Waterloo...it was much more conducive to studying...

When Cohabitating with Felines

Life is always interesting, when sharing your living space with cats. Stormy and Henry share my space. Interesting is a creative way to frame it, yeah, sure...

• Henry lets you know when he is ready to get up in the morning. How thoughtful! He even remembers to go and rattle the blinds in the bedroom window, and then climb up on top of the tv tower (dresser, tv, vcr, dvd player, trash bin - because he won't leave it alone on the floor) to get at the trash bin yet again...


• Stormy will leap onto your chest to let you know he is ready to be petted. Or else.


• Henry communicates easily. And often.


• Henry has strange fetishes...sponges, dusters, feathers, plastic thingys, and elastic thingys. He went after the swiffer duster yesterday...and won it's heart. Now I have to root out a new one.


• They don't want you to forget them, so thoughtfully leave fur in many forms around your apartment. There is often a hacked up furball incident once a week, particularly since Henry-Long-Fur's arrival.


• They are quite content to be indoor cats. They play in the litter box often, just to remind them of that giant sandbox outside my neighbor's garden, being sure to whip it all around the designated litter box room (my hall closet/storage space). Henry patiently waits for you to clean the box, just so he can go in and play again.


• They look devastatingly cute together - Henry's fair lambswool fur against Stormy's pantherlike coat.


• They love playing together. And wrestling. And making one another cry out loud. Stormy growls at Henry if he gets too close while he eats. So they are fed several feet apart. When Henry is in the bag (there is always a bag to play in) Stormy loves to run and jump on top of it, pinning Henry into the bag. One of his feet are usually in Henry's eye. They also love to chase one another around the apartment - there is a short wall that divides the kitchen/living room, and they like to go around this, and around, and around, and around...
• They will listen to any and all complaints at the end of my day, and ask for nothing in return. They will let me know when they are ready for affection, often while I am doing something else with my hands.
• At least they don't leave the toilet seat up...

Hiccupless Travels

Well, somehow or another, I managed to fly from Yellowknife to Halifax and back in the space of a few days and had NO REAL TRAVEL DELAYS! If anything, my flights arrived early! It was a whirlwind trip, packed with shopping with mother, and a ton for myself, putting furniture together, minor home repairs for them, installing some computer hardware and software, etc. We were both exhausted by the time I left, however we accomplished tons in the two days I was there. Imagine what I could accomplish this summer when I visit...

We now return to our regularly scheduled programming

Sorry for the absence - been busy this week, power shopping in Halifax after flying east to return a child (for work)...tomorrow there shall be a new post. Stay tuned.

Spring is on it's way.

I had my first bbq of the season last night. The thermometer read 0C so I was GAME! Then we

were treated to an awesome display in the northern skies. Today it was warm and I sat out for the first time on my balcony since moving in. My kayak will be the next thing I want to use...though that might be a while considering they are still driving on the ice here...

The summer tires may find their way onto my car now that I live in the city and can get it done. The bicycle is iffy...I have to put it back together again...movers always take the wheels off.

The butt pot is for my friend K. who smokes out there...with the warmer weather she may come over more...lol...right K.???

Crabs?

sent to me by my mother, and it gave me a hoot. I haven't heard man new ones, but I have to say, this one is new to me. Beware, it is somewhat risque.

One day an old lady went to the doctors because she had an itch in her crotch. She told the doctor her problem and he said, 'You have the crabs'. She informed the doctor that it could not be the crabs because she was an eighty year old virgin. She went to another doctor and explained her problem to him. The doctors aid, 'You probably have the crabs' 'No' she said, 'I am an eighty year old virgin.' Frustrated, she went to a third doctor. She said, 'Doctor can you help me? I have an itch in my crotch. Don't tell me that it is the crabs because I am an eighty year old virgin. It can not be the crabs.' The doctor said, 'Jump on the table and let's have a look.' After examining, the doctor proclaimed, 'Ma'am, your right, you do not have the crabs. This cherry is sooooo old, you have fruit flies.'

Okay, tasteless too...or is it...

Life Explained

On the first day, God created the dog and said:
'Sit all day by the door of your house and bark atanyone who comes in or walks past. For this, I will give you a life span of twenty years.'
The dog said: 'That's a long time to be barking. How about only ten years and I'll give you back the other ten?' So God agreed.

On the second day, God created the monkey and said: 'Entertain people, do tricks, and make them laugh. For this, I'll give you a twenty-year life span.'
The monkey said: 'Monkey tricks for twenty years? That's a pretty long time to perform. How about I give you back ten like the Dog did?' And God agreed.

On the third day, God created the cow and said: 'You must go into the field with the farmer all day long and suffer under the sun, have calves and give milk to support the farmer's family. For this, I will give you a life span of sixty years.'
The cow said: 'That's kind of a tough life you want me to live for sixty years. How about twenty and I'll give back the other forty?' And God agreed again.

On the fourth day, God created man and said: 'Eat, sleep, play, marry and enjoy your life. For this,I'll give you twenty years.'
But man said: 'Only twenty years? Could you possibly give me my twenty, the forty the cow gave back, the ten the monkey gave back, and the ten the dog gave back; that makes eighty, okay?' 'Okay,' said God, 'You asked for it.'

So that is why for our first twenty years we eat, sleep,play and enjoy ourselves. For the next forty years we slave in the sun to support our family. For the next ten years we do monkey tricks to entertain the grandchildren. And for the last ten years we sit on the front porch and bark at everyone. Life has now been explained to you. There is no need to thank me for this valuable information. I'm doing it as a public service.

Oh The Indignity Of It All!

This is Sally Ann. She is a dolly that I gave to my daughter for her 1st birthday, nearly 21 years ago. This was THE dolly, and she lugged her around for years and loved her dearly. Sally Ann had many outfits that I sewed for her, including this one made from leftover fabric from my sister's prom dress, and she has had many roles in my daughter's life. At one point, she was one of the "children of England" in her fantasy playland. She never slept without her, and in the mornings would come shuffling out of bed in her pyjamas, Sally Ann tucked under one arm, and then chuck her up on the table beside her to eat breakfast. She travelled with us wherever we went, and it was a bit of a drama the once time we forgot her on our way to the cabin for the weekend.

My daughter has since outgrown her many years ago, now that she's nearly 22 years old. I've been lugging her around with me through my manh moves, not wanting to part with her myself, as she reminds me of the innocence of my daughter's childhood. Her current place was sitting in the rocking chair I rocked my daughter in all those years, which now sits in the spare room.

I happened to go into the spare room this morning and found her in this condition. Poor Sally Ann has been brutalized, and the culprit is Henry VIII, feline. He ripped her dress off her and there are several teeth marks in her dress, and on her body. I've since moved her to a shelf in my closet for safety reasons.

Oh, the indignity of it all.

Sigh...Call Centres

Ok. I hate calling call centres to begin with, but they are a necessary evil. Who else will deal with complaints. GAWD knows no one is available in person. I hate going through the plethora of automated menus - press one, press two, press pound, BLAH BLAH BLAH! And then you get put on hold forever, if anyone even bothers to pick up the phone. And can someone please explain to me why call centres continue to hire people who can't SPEAK ENGLISH!!! I get SO DAMNED IRRITATED when I call and have to keep explaining myself because the idiot at the other end of the line can't understand English. I live in Canada. We have two official languages...English is one of them. I am not in Quebec, so therefore I should be able to receive service in English without having to repeat what I am saying a dozen times.

Today was no exception. I have been having issues with my phone jack in the living room. I've fried three phones now by touching it and getting zapped with static electricity. The phones have died, mid-ring, never to work again. So after the third phone fried, I decided to call the phone company. The first call, three menus later, I get a ringing phone...that no one answered...WTF? So I hung up after about 20 rings, and tried again. This time I got a person, English speaking...groovy...we're in the zone. I explain the problem to her and she agrees to put in a "service ticket" and someone will call me tomorrow. I provide her with numbers to reach me at, and the call is over...great.

About 30 minutes later the phone rings. My phone rarely rings, so I dash off into the bedroom to answer it (I refuse to plug yet another phone into the jack in the living room, only to fry). It was the phone company and I was not in the zone. Some foreigner was calling to tell me that he received my service ticket. I explained the problem and he told me someone would call me tomorrow. So I asked him what the purpose of his call today was, considering the person I spoke to just 30 minutes ago told me exactly the same thing. He didn't understand the question...so I explained it to him again, in plain ENGLISH. So then he said someone would come out to check it out tomorrow. I asked him when, because I work tomorrow in the afternoon, but am home in the morning. He said someone will come out tomorrow. Um, listen idiot, I know that, but when tomorrow...there are 24 hours in the day...can you at least pick one of them? So I clarified again what I meant, in plain ENGLISH. He doesn't respond and tells me there will be a charge. WTF? Why do I have to pay for an unsafe jack in my apartment? He tells me that the phone company doesn't repair anything inside of a building...oh for fuck's sake...you have GOT to be kidding me. I am not talking about a god damn Radio Shack jack, I am calling about a builder installed wall jack. Sorry, ma'am...there will be a charge. So I tell him to forget it, I am not paying to have someone else's equipment fixed. He tells me my landlord must fix it...WTF? They don't have phone technicians...they have Tony the handyman...

Sigh...so then I tell him not to send anyone because I am not paying for it. He repeats what I said and informs me he is writing a note on the file that I will not pay for anyone to come and that someone will call me tomorrow. Um, what? So I ask him why is someone going to call me when you aren't going to fix the jack without charging me for it, and I told you I am not going to pay for anyone to come? He says "he will come tomorrow". Sigh...so then I got pissy and hollered something rude like "why can't I speak to someone who speaks English???" and hung up the phone. I wonder if someone will phone me or come...

I hate call centres...

St. Valentine Was a Sadist

Valentine's day is for lovers. When you don't have one, it is nothing but a horrible reminder that you are alone while others celebrate their love for each other. Boo. Love sucks. The only good thing about Valentine's day is the sweet treats...pass the chocolates, I'll have a double.

I don't recall it being any less miserable as a child either. We made those stupid valentine boxes/folders/bags and spent the whole day before decorating them with construction paper hearts, paper lace doilies, glitter, ribbon, whatever you could find in the classroom. And then you diligently made out your 30 valentines at home the night before, trying not to give the wrong person the wrong idea - don't want to give too cute of a one to the gross guy who makes armpit farts with his hand...he might think you like him. And hoped like hell the guy you had a crush on gave you a nice one, if at all. And if he wasn't in your class, it likely didn't happen, and hearts were broken again...sob!

So, if you have someone to kiss tomorrow - lucky you. I'll be eating chocolate at home with the only boys in my life...Stormy and Henry.

My Flaky Cat

Stormy is big and black, and has dandruff...or at the very least, dry skin. It's quite dry in the north, and his skin is flaking off all over the place. I'm sure it's driving him nuts, though I haven't seen him scratching much. The remedy is to either add moisture (near impossible...it gets SUCKED into the air and evaporates quicker than I could add it) or to add fish oil to his diet. Via didn't like fish, so I hadn't been in the habit of buying any fish flavored cat food, but in light of his flaky skin, I thought I might try it. He practically inhaled it...and Henry turned his nose up at it. His loss...

The irony is, I am allergic to animal dander, and this dry skin of Stormy's is exactly the portion I am allergic to...sneeze, snort, sniff...good thing I love that boy...he still gets his snuggles regardless of the level of flakiness...

Aging

It ain't pretty. It also hurts like a bitch. I've been told I likely have bursitis in my hip and knee. I'm just 41 years old. I feel much older...thank goodness my heating pad has been giving me some relief, as meds did nothing for it.

All I can hear in my head though is my aging mother saying "oh, me hip"...

Short Break - I'm Getting Old

So I have the net at home tonight after all...the Freezone is up and running again, lol...

I am also getting old...or I am getting old people's issues...hip and knee pain sent me to the outpatient clinic at the hospital and after hours there last night, and a shot of toradol (no relief), I was sent home and requested to come back this morning for an x-ray. Back to the hospital this morning, x-rays and 3 hours later, they tell me they are not quite sure what is wrong but they know what isn't wrong. Their best guess was bursitis...yes...bursitis...something I typically would associate with my grandmother...not me. I am just 41 years young...how can I have bursitis???

I think I shall hobble off to bed now, taking my aging joints with me...

Break Time

I posted similar on my other blog...have lost my "freezone" wireless internet at home (GASP!) because the network I was camping out on either figured out how to secure it, or they moved out...either way, I am without access until this weekend when I can get my own up and running. Not much choice of ISP's up here, so have to take what I can get. Stay tuned...

My Boys This Weekend

Here's some recent shots of the boys. Henry has his nail caps on...pink ones! I had bought them for poor little Via, but they arrived after she was put down. He doesn't seem to mind them much, and it has certainly curbed his scratching on my bed and wicker trunk. Stormy is "in the bag" in his photo...loves getting into paper bags, gift bags, plastic bags, you name it.

Grief & Loss: What To Do?

I can hardly write this without balling my eyes out. What do you do when there has been an accumulation of loss and you don't want any more? I know what the social worker inside me says - deal with it, and move on when you're ready.

No one has died recently (other than the talented Heath Ledger) but everywhere I look there has been loss - death, change, deterioration, and loss of a way of life. I thought I had been dealing with things well enough, but I think the final straw was knowing that the one community I had been able to call home is facing significant change, and possibly closure at some point. It wasn't like I didn't see it coming. I'd been hearing about the possibility for decades, long before I chose to live there for 12 years.

The losses vary:

• loss of so many family members to cancer - 3 sister-in-laws, all under age 50; all of my grandparents, and two uncles, not to mention several distant relatives, and family friends; and others coping with cancer right now. I hate cancer...


• pets - lost my feline friend Via in April after nearly 10 years with her - she came from that tiny community I call home; and then last fall I lost my canine friend, Penny, who lived in that community with my parents after I moved away. She was nearly 14 years old.


• my father has had some significant health issues that have affected his whole way of life and needs more care than he expected, and making changes in my parents lives they weren't really counting on.


• the potential closure of this small community.

I think back of all the memories, and how most everything relates to this small community - it has been the anchor for so much of my life. No matter where I have lived all over this country, this community has been there for me, a constant. I am now in my 30th home in 41 years, and every chance I got in those 41 years, I went to visit that community. I lived there for 12, had grandparents there for decades, and my parents retired there for more than a decade. I still have a house there (co-owned with the ex) on my family's land, granted to my great-grandfather near the turn of the century. I was married there; I raised my only daughter there; I built my house with my own hands there (with the ex) from the ground up.

The fondest of memories flood me, and I know many of my faithful readers will share in them - if they weren't there, they have similar memories:

• swimming up in Big Pond, jumping off diving point into the chilly waters. We numbed up after the first few jumps, and swam sometimes twice or three times a day (counting those late night dips in our undergarments!)


• walking in across the many frozen ponds in winter, sliding down the hills on our bums, happiest when there was a thick crust of snow and "glitter" (ice rain)...moonlit or the brilliant sun, made no difference to us - it was so good to go out, even if the CRACK! of the ice made us all screech out loud!


• the sound of outboard motor boats heading out to traps and nets in the early morning, and then returning in the afternoons; on calm days, you could hear the fishermen (and women!) talking to one another, clanging their gear around


• the blow of the "steamer" (coastal ferry) when she came into the harbour, boats like the Tavener, the Bonavista, the Coaster, the Runner...


• the sweet smell of Mayflowers on Mother's Day, picked on the hills surrounding the harbour


• the sight of an older gentleman, sitting on the counter of a local store, looking out the window, greeting all who entered the store. He used to run that store, wrapping sliced bologna in brown paper and string that my grandmother saved up in a paper bag


• going out in the boat on Sundays for a picnic on some island beach, or shoreline cove, exploring what we could, having a boil-up for supper


• parties at my house - many knew how they went...usually started with playing cards well into the night, generous amounts of alcohol, loud music, food fights, dancing on the coffee table, and the notorious "pool party" and "lipstick caper"...I can still picture S.B. with my ex's shorts on, and fuzzy slippers, doing his impression of Superman...


• picking berries on the hills, hoping the bears didn't come along and catch you - blueberries, partridgeberries, marshberries (most called them meshberries), and the elusive and much coveted bakeapples - God help you if you trampled any of those and were caught by the serious berrypickers!


• stomping the night away at the Cramalott Inn (local gathering place, for drinks, cooking up a scoff, jokes, stories, music, cards, and more). How many nights did folks fall asleep to the sound of shoes thumping the floor late into the night as things really got rocking...and how many packs of cards, radios, tables, and who knows what else got thrown over the cliff in the heat of an argument or frustration. SOOO many memories for that place - dancing in the dark, jugs of water thrown into a surprised face, my sister writing in "the book" and taking roll call, mussel boils, the "outhouse" (a funnel connected to a pipe that ran to the ocean), the stacks of beer bottles that paid for the place's expenses, the many colors of the Cramalott Inn walls...J.B. holding his beer bottle to the light to check for fingers...


• card games at the school, and getting the "booby prize"; dart games at the school and the sour looks from others when you scored well or finished a game!


• weddings at the Orangemen's Lodge, and then later at the school - another host of memories...live bands, djs, the bending floor when the crowds were up to stomp out a good jig, arguing over what music to play when there was no dj, waiting for your turn in the one toilet per gender, standing around outside with the smokers for a bit of "fresh" air, and trying not to fall into the ditch on the way home


• the two-room school where my daughter went from K-5 before we moved away. She spent all those years in a grade by herself, as did many others over the years, and their Christmas concerts - the kids were so good to remember so much, even if you couldn't understand much of it (well, I couldn't, with my "outsider ears")


• going house to house on Christmas night, for a drink, a snack, and a barrel of laughs - like when J.B. bounced his way across somene's bridge (deck) on Moon Shoes...


• walking "over around" to get the mail on mail days, and standing around while it was called out while you waited for each coveted piece of mail, parcel card, Sears catalog, or store flyer


• meeting the ferry when it arrived in the harbour and tied up at the wharf - didn't matter if you didn't have anyone coming on the ferry - you went just to see who else did, or what freight came on the boat, or just for something to do; it was often the highlight of the day, unless you were going on it, and you were ready to hurl your guts out before you even boarded, smelling the stench of diesel fumes...


• huge fires up in the "arm" on Bonfire Night in November - the kids would work for weeks prior, dragging off all the old deadwood they could find, taking down old hen houses, shacks, fish flakes, you name it, keeping the harbour tidy of old relics


• going for walks around the harbour, lap after lap, across the breakwater - you didn't dare not take it to the very end and touch the ground before turning around


• seeing O.B. out walking, day after day, making his rounds, so used to going to the power house in the days before we were hooked into the main power grid.
• playing over on "the head" and hiding amongst the rocks, climbing down "the devil's slide" or crossing "the bar" at low tide, hoping you made it back before it began to rise
• walking down to Sandbanks, where they used to keep the sheep

I could go on, and on, and on...and you know what...I feel better already, having revisited memory lane. At least the crying has stopped...for now...

Missing Heath

Heath Ledger was found dead in his apartment today. I am shocked and saddened. I loved his acting, particularly in The Four Feathers, The Patriot, and A Knight's Tale. He was 28 years old.

Oh The Idiocy Of It All

I thought I might attempt to put up the last of what I have to go on the walls tonight, which are some 4 inch tall painted wooden letters that spell out words I wanted on the walls. Off I go with measuring tape and pencil in hand to make sure they end up on straight, and well spaced on the chosen wall. I'm not real tall at 5'4" so took my trusty plastic Rubbermaid stool with me, thinking I would not need the height of a chair. After some initial measurements, I shuffled around on the stool, and before I knew it, BAM CRASH BANG OH FUCK THE PAIN! My foot had managed to bust its way through the centre of the stool. I think it was because I generally don't centre my weight on the weakest part (the centre), usually choosing to hover at the edges where the weight bearing legs are. Tonight I did not. My foot went through the stool to the floor. Given that the stools are not that wide, and my foot is an average size 8, my toes did not wish to go with the rest of the foot. Instead they chose to hang up on the jagged edges of plastic created by the foot.

After the howling, whimpering and whining stopped, I checked out the damage and noticed blood was pouring from 4 places...two spots between my middle and next smallest toes (one was a rather deep gash) a spot on the outer edge of my baby toe, and a spot on the back of my ankle, on the achilles tendon, along with a scrape on the outer edge of my ankle. Three bandaids later, and I was back to work, standing on a wooden chair instead. The stool is toast...

And oh the irony of it all...the letters for the wall? They spell PEACE, HOPE, and LOVE...