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.

SIX WORDS FOR THE TOE REPORT

Cranked toe, stuffed in pretty shoe.

THE TOE REPORT

Tuesday had lovely polka dot shoes on yesterday.

So did Curly Sue. She is my "story hound" granddaughter--always "hounding" me for a story so I started one about two girls. One girl was called "Miss Socks"--that would be Tuesday, as she has socks with her black-and-white polka-dot shoes...
...and the other girl was called "Miss Toes," as Curly Sue's black-and-white polka-dot shoes showed, well, toes.

We got one chapter done and now I am thinking about chapter two.

While I was thinking I sat on the step with Gilmore Girl. She had her toe "cranked" by Dr. Cranky, who filled her pain prescription out WRONG so she couldn't get any pain meds today for her poor hurting tootsies. And of course, Dr. Cranky with the incompetent prescription-filling-out-skills, was NOT in the office today.

He did some surgery on her several months ago and her big piglet still wouldn't bend so he had her come into the office yesterday, he poked her a hundred times trying to find a vein--never did--and then deadened her toe--somewhat--and then bent it, using his elephant weight until she heard things pop and tear inside. Oh, it was not pleasant. He had her bring "heels" so her toe would stay bent. Here are her piggies, being brave.And here are "Miss Socks" and "Miss Toes" being protected by their Grandpa's feet. And, since this is a foot show-and-tell, here are my clodhoppers. I guess I can hop clods. Not that I want to, mind you, but if the opportunity ever comes along and there are clods available, I'm prepared.

And as for Gilmore Girl, with the cranked toe, she was not feeling so chipper last night and was having a bit of a pity party, all alone, up late and so we talked via email and I said, "there, there," but I'm not sure that was enough. She needed me to come down and read her a story and run her a hot bath, just like I used to do when she was little and in need of comfort.

How I wish I could have. And I would have made sure she wore her shoes to bed, too. Just in case. That's what mother's do, all kinds of stuff, "Just in case."

So, Dear Gilmore Girl, I hope you make it though the week-end and then we will beat up on Dr. Cranky, with the incompetent prescription-filling-out-skills, on Monday. I might even hop a clod for him, just in case he thinks I'm a wuss don't mean business.

PS Tell Miss Toes that Chapter two is almost ready.