PAINTED TOE NAILS UNDERNEATH THE BATHROOM DOOR

Shan (of "Shenanigans") was in a public bathroom the other day, minding her own business, when a lady came in and started talking to her--UNDER THE BATHROOM STALL.

"Where did you get your pedicure?" the cheeky woman asked.

Now Shan couldn't see the lady, mind you, she was...occupied and couldn't just ignore the woman and walk away. The woman wanted to know all the details about her pedicure and then told Shan that she needed a pedicure for a wedding and went on to explain who the wedding was for and blah, blah, blah. On and on she went, becoming more and more chummy.

"What did you do?" I asked, trying not to laugh as I pictured Shan, sitting there.

"What do you think I did? I freaked out! And then I finished, washed my hands and got out of there," she said.

So, if you see some of these toes underneath the bathroom door please do not carry on a chummy conversation with the owner of said toes. Freaking out is detrimental to Shan's mental health, especially in a confined space...and especially when she's busy... doing stuff.

And if you see this many toes...run. You will be outnumbered. PS Aren't these shoes cute? I don't have a pair or you would be looking at thirty toes. I should really have a pair, I really should.

PPS A woman I know was a secretary at the Utah State Mental Hospital for years and years. After she retired she was at a loss--lonely for the odd patients she saw so often.

She was back at the mental hospital the other night for a Family Home Evening. She said a man came in in jeans and a T-shirt and he looked perfectly normal so she couldn't tell if he was a patient or a worker. And then she looked closer and realized that yes, he was indeed a patient. He was wearing sandals and sticking out from his sandals were toes, painted with bright red toenail polish. She felt right at home.

OKAY, WHO'S TOOTSIE'S ARE HURTING? CORNS, ANYONE?

Last night, after everyone had left we saw a funny thing on the floor in the living room.

"It's one of those bandages for corns, like on people's feet," Phil said.

"There's no padding," I said.

"Well, that's what it is anyway, maybe the padding is still on their foot."

"Who has a corn?"

"Don't know," he said.

So, I took the corn bandage and THREW IT AWAY. After all, who saves such a thing. And then today, I looked at the little Thanksgiving quilt that Soap Queen made for me years ago. Something didn't look quite right.
I took a closer look.
And then a closer one and there was the missing "corn bandage." It wasn't a bandage at all but a Pilgrim buckle.

I'm so glad no one is limping, except for my Pilgrim, whose shoe may fall off, because of the unbuckling, and then he will be limping for sure.

PS Thank you, Soap Queen, I love this quilt and the Christmas one, too.

SIX WORDS FOR TRICK OR TREAT, SMELL MY FEET

Feet, dressed up like a skeleton.

TRICK OR TREAT, SMELL MY FEET, GIVE ME SOMETHING GOOD TO EAT

Trick or treat, Smell my feet,*

Phew!

"No, smell MY feet!"

Someone forgot to tell Roger Federer that he should have left his SKELETON feet at home and put on his real feet. Oh my.
"Roger, get those scary feet out of here or at least put on some shoes. Is this who I've been playing against? Skeletor? I'm gonna hurl. Projectile hurl. It's gonna be ugly. but not as dang ugly as those feet."

Give me something good to eat.

So, Trick or Treators don't want pickled beets and pickled onions but that's what I made this afternoon which morphed into the evening which meant Phil answered the door forty-'leven times.

He was so cute with all the kids and even the big kids. He never once said, "Aren't you a little old to be Trick or Treating?" to the junior high kids and even the high school and--ahem--college kids. He commented on their costumes and always wished them a Happy Halloween. He's such a nice guy, my Phil.

Hope your Halloween was great.

Don't tell anyone but I miss my little kids. They were so excited that they changed their minds about what they were going "to be" about ten time before Halloween actually got here. When they got home after the great treating-hunting-gathering-fest they spilled all the candy on the floor and sorted it by types and kinds. And they always complained that one family gave pencils. Honestly, they had so much candy that they couldn't even eat it all and they complained about one stinkin' pencil.

But, perhaps they aren't so different from their mom who remembers one family in Annabella who always said, "What? It's Halloween? Lloyd!"--names changed to protect the cheap--"Lloyd, did you know it's Halloween? See if you can find something for these here kids." Which meant we were going to get a wrinkly apple. Now, I tell you, every year we'd get a wrinkly apple. I guess each time some kid knocked on the door she'd yell, "Lloyd, did you know it's Halloween?" because we weren't the first ones there.

If they were still alive I'd take them a pencil.

* Those are not my feet. I "stole" that photo off someone else's blog. I found worse photos, disgusting photos of feet but I was nice to the world and didn't post them. I didn't want more projectile hurling. Honest, they were a-word-worse-than-ugly, whatever that would be. Bad. You should thank me for not posting them. Seriously. Thank me.