A Few Points To Note

Not a great deal going on in my cozy little breakfast-nook of the universe at the moment.  Not so much that it would even warrant a weekly wrap-up.  But a couple of points are buzzing around in my cranium, and so I will introduce them in a segment I have decided to call:

A Few Points To Note


Item 1:  Self-Grooming Toddlers

It occurred to me recently that, in his roughly one and a half (glorious and juice-filled) years on this planet, I have never ONCE trimmed my son's toenails.

And I am completely serious.  In a year and a half on earth, I have never trimmed his toenails.  Never. 

And yet they are short.

Fascinating.

(Also, further evidence to suggest that my baby might be magic.)

So I immediately went to Mister with this.  "Have you trimmed the baby's toenails?"

He assured me that he had not.

And so I am in a quandary.

While my Grey Took's (our nickname for him) fingernails have presented no end of problems (and wounds), and are, in fact, deadly little toddler-weapons. . . his toenails have apparently been passed over by the unfeeling hand of Time.

Before you ask, I will tell you right now--No.  The toes do not appear to be deformed in any way.  Nor do the nails.  They simply do not seem to require trimming.

EVER.

And so I am making a mental note to begin preparing Mister this VERY NIGHT for the talk show circuit, as I am quite sure that, once word of our self-grooming toddler gets out, the world is going to want to know our story.

. . .

Wait.

I've just given this more thought. 

And I've realized that, once the world does learn of our Amazing Self-Grooming Toddler, the only LOGICAL avenue to take would be one of intense research and study.

And when it comes to my child's future, 'lab rat' is a career path that I neither envision nor embrace.

So I guess I'm just going to have to keep this one under my hat for the moment.

:/

And so we move on to. . .


Item 2:  Nocturnal Hand Lickings

While I would really love to say that this is some awesome new sex-thing that Mister and I have just discovered, and that it is JUST GOING TO CHANGE YOUR LIFE. . . I'm afraid that isn't the case.  Primarily because it is DECIDEDLY un-sexy ('annoying' would be a more fitting term), and secondly because one of the parties involved (the 'lick-ER,' as it were) is our new kitten, Waylon Jennings.

I don't know if she wasn't hugged enough as a baby or what (or whatever cats do instead of hug. . . probably high-five. . . because the thought of a bunch of high-fiving kittens is the kind of thing that gets me through my week) but she has decided that while we sleep is the PERFECT TIME to bathe any parts of us that have been left exposed on the covers.

. . . And apparently we have really dirty hands.

At first it sounds really cute, I'm sure.  (I'm a fan of cats.  See above.)  Aw!  She's just giving you kisses!!  . . .But I'm the kind of person that, when it's time to sleep --- I want to SLEEP.  I don't want to chit chat, I don't want to cuddle, and as it turns out:  I don't want my freaking appendages licked by a member of an opposing species.

And so, all night long, we perform this intricate little dance of:  Arms outside the covers. . . lick, lick, lick, . . . Damn cat. . . shove arms inside covers, fall asleep. . .  Forget about cat, roll over, place arms outside covers. . . lick, lick, lick. . . Damn cat. . .  And repeat.  (You get the idea.)

It is really a million wonders that the precious little ball of fur and tongue hasn't found herself suddenly airborne at some point during said dance.

But it's coming.

I can assure you:  It's coming.

Feline cruelty aside, we move on to . . .


Item 3:  Unsolicited Foul-Smelling Beverages From Strangers:  Good Idea, or GREAT Idea?

This one actually happened this morning, and she wasn't a COMPLETE stranger --- she was my chiropractor.  Still. . .

A little backstory.

I went in this morning for what is becoming my usual Voodoo-That-She-Do that keeps my head from being an inhospitable, and quite hellish, torture chamber.  So, as I was lying there with the little devil-machine on my shoulders, waiting for her to come in and perform her witch-doctor magicks, I succumbed to a particularly rough coughing fit.

(I have been fighting off a bad cold for over a week now.  Though I don't know if I am 'fighting it off' so much as I am weakly batting at it with a rolled-up newspaper.  But whatever.)

So she walks in right as I am in the middle of a nasty spasm.

And, whether due to her genuine concern for my well-being, or her great desire to get me and my germs out of there with HASTE, she suggested a couple of home remedies.  One of which was to drink some apple cider vinegar diluted in water to help loosen up the cough.

(I DID mentally take note of this.  . . . However, I ALSO mentally know how DREADFUL apple cider vinegar tastes, and so I immediately wadded up this mental note, and threw it in my mental waste basket.)

But, as I was checking out, my Witch Doctor, MD said that she happened to HAVE some apple cider vinegar in the kitchen right now. . . and would I like some?

Well?  WOULD I?

My hands really were tied, and so I agreed, and not ten seconds later she reappeared with a plastic cup of a just AWFUL-smelling concoction, then walked away smiling, obviously happy to have helped.

I stared at the cup.

I stared at the receptionist. 

We stared at each other.

She cocked her eyebrow.

(She was gonna tell on me if I didn't drink it.  I just KNEW IT.)

And then the Witch Doctor was gonna be all, Oh, why should I bother treating her if she's not committed to getting better?  What kind of person would look me in the face and tell me they're going to drink apple cider vinegar and then LIE??

Really.  What kind of person WOULD do that?

So I stared right back at that hateful receptionist.  (She wasn't really hateful, I just kind of hated her for doubting me.)

Well, you know what, lady?  You HAVE NO IDEA WHO YOU'RE DEALING WITH.

And I drank it down in ONE GULP.  Like a shot.  Of awful.

And as I walked back to my car, gagging conspicuously and mentally patting myself on the back for being JUST SO INCREDIBLY HARDCORE BACK THERE, it occurs to me that perhaps it was NOT the smartest thing in the world to drink an unspecified beverage from a woman who (though QUITE polite) is essentially a stranger to me.

However, I WILL say that my throat has never felt cleaner, and, though it probably WAS a stupid thing to do, it probably was NOT the most stupid thing I will do this WEEK, or even this DAY, and so I guess that makes it okay.

The End.