There is a sign posted on my office door today:
I rode my motorcycle to work today and have a bad case of helmet hair.
I’d take a picture for you but I left my phone at home. Rats.
A co-worker was already at the office when I came in wearing my jacket, chaps and boots while carrying my helmet and shoes. He asked, “Bring the bike today?”
I replied, “Yes” but inside my head I wanted to say, “No, I just wanted to look like I did.”
Here’s your sign.
It was our turn to experience some nasty weather. Fortunately is wasn’t as nasty as the weather and destruction that hit Oklahoma, Texas and other mid-western states.
Tornados are not common in the Appalachian Mountains but they do happen on occasion.
We had been under the threat of severe thunderstorms every day this week. Most of the time they happened around 4:00 pm just as I leave from work.
Yesterday I had to stop at the market before I went home so this storm was a bit later than the others.
As I was driving home, I noticed this ominous looking dark grey cloud hanging down from the other clouds. It was very strange. I almost stopped along the road to take a photo of it as it was just so weird. I’m glad I didn’t.
I’m just a little to the northwest of that green pin in the radar right where the yellow blob is heading
When I turned into the development where I live, it started to rain. Hard. Then I heard something hit my car roof. Just as I got into the garage, hail started coming down. It sounded like gravel hitting the roof of the house.
I quickly ran through the house slamming any open windows shut. Luckily the rain stayed out.
I managed to capture some of the hail and aftereffects with my phone camera.
I would guess nickel and dime-sized hail stones. Maybe a bit larger.
In less than 10 minutes it was all over.
The sun was shining and a rainbow appeared in the distance.
Can you see the hail stones in the grass (and weeds)? They are about the size of a clover leaf.
Mr. Aitch was about 10 miles away from home. He said they had a one minute rain shower.
Crazy weather.
Warning – This is not a post about children.
“The girls” in this case are a part of a woman’s physique. If you don’t understand, you should by the end of this post.
A couple of Saturdays ago I met a friend for lunch and a few hours of shopping. She needed a cast iron skillet and I needed a dress for an upcoming wedding. Interesting combination.
Since the cast iron skillet would be heavy to carry around, we opted to look for a dress first.
While I was perusing the store for a suitable dress, my friend was also browsing and found a few tops to try on.
I think I tried on 8-10 dresses and found two that I really liked. My friend tried on several tops and found a couple that she liked. Then she saw a dress that another customer was trying on. She asked the sales lady to see if there was one in her size. It didn’t fit as she is very well-endowed (with the help of silicone). She needed a larger size. The other customer didn’t want the dress and it was the size my friend needed so my friend tried it on. All the while she was in the dressing room, she kept talking about “the girls” wondering if they would fit in the dress. The sales lady seemed a bit confused and asked me if my friend’s daughters were shopping with her and would they need to approve of this dress as she kept hearing about “the girls”.
I whispered to her that it was just the two of us shopping today, pointed to my chest and told her what “the girls” were. Her eyes got really big and she said, “My goodness, I’ve never heard of that expression before. I just learned something new today.”
Mr. Aitch wears white socks. Every. Day. He used to get holes in the toe so I started buying him Gold Toe® socks*. No more holes in the toe. Yay! Now he gets holes on the bottom of the heel. I need “Gold Toe and Heel” socks for him. It seems that no matter how often I wash whites, he always runs out of white socks. So I bought him another package of six pair last week.
Now the rest of the story:
This past Saturday I planted all the flowers and herbs I bought the week before. I had to wait for a day when Mr. Aitch was available to move the bags of soil for me.
No sooner than I got started, I felt something on my arm. Without looking I just brushed it away. I have no idea what is was but my arm started itching immediately. I ignored it until I was finished.
Please ignore my faded and stained planters. I scrubbed them first. Really, I did!
I got myself cleaned up and noticed the raised welt on my arm. A drop or two of hand sanitizer usually calmed the itch for hours. This time it worked for about two minutes. I figured it was a spider bite since this has happened to me before. In the past the site of the bite would swell up to the size of a small grapefruit.
Mr. Aitch suggested I take some Benadryl. Benadryl and I don’t get along very well. It makes me drowsy enough to be nonfunctional then causes nightmares when I do sleep.
When I went to the market Sunday morning after church, I asked the pharmacist what I could use to stop the itch. Hydrocortisone cream. I felt relief instantly.
I applied more to the bite area (including the gelatinous glob forming under the skin) before I went to bed but needed to cover it so the cream would stay on my arm and not get all over the sheets. So I cut the top off of an old pair of holey white socks Mr. Aitch threw away as a way to cover the bite.
You’re going to have to trust me on this. I cropped out the discolored holey part. You can thank me later.
I asked Mr. Aitch to help me get the sock top over the medicated mess.
I told him I cut the top off of one of the new pairs of white socks I just bought him.
Wha…..?
The look on his face was priceless. I thought he was going into shock.
Just kidding, Honey! It was an old sock.
Rarely do I pull one over on Mr. Aitch but I did this time.
*Note: The opinions expressed here are mine and mine alone. I received no, nada, zero, zilch compensation from the fine makers of GoldToe® socks. I just wish that I did.
Knitting In Flashes 