My mom can't come to the blog right now. She's sitting in the Happy Chair with a bag of peas on her head. She's also glaring at me with crazy eyes, but I'm trying to ignore that part of the tableau and just get on with my nap time.
It all started when she came from from the Targets a few weeks ago with new socks. Normally, the old lady opts for the bag of Hanes low rise "footie" socks in a sensible cotton, but this time she and Aunt Chrissy decided to get jiggy with it and she bought fuzzy socks instead.
And by fuzzy, I mean really really fuzzy. And soft too. I would say that these socks are reminiscent of my very own downy soft fur, but that wouldn't be quite accurate, since my fur is white and smells nice and these socks are black and do not.
Anywhoose, when Mo-ther took these socks out of the Target shopping bag, I said to her "Don't you think you should adhere some kind of safety strips onto the bottom of those things?", and Mo-ther snorted at me dismissively and said "There's enough crap on these floors to stop me from sliding around. Besides, safety strips on the bottom of these things would make them look like hospital socks. And I'm not going to wear hospital socks."
Had the old lady actually gone to said hospital for treatment of what I am sure is a concussion, she would, in fact, have been presented with...yes...you guessed it....hospital socks.
As it is, she's in the Happy Chair complaining of a headache and blurry vision after smacking her head on the hardwood. At 7:30 this morning she decided that she was thirsty and that she might as well start the day, so she hauled herself out of the big girl sleigh bed, put on the fuzzy Target socks, and proceeded to ice skate across the clean living room floor. Not a dust bunny in sight to stop my stupid mo-ther's momentum, and before I knew it I heard what sounded like a watermelon being dropped from a very tall building.
There was no blood, thank God, but you would think that a person has never fallen down in the world the way she's carrying on about it. She keeps talking about the fact that all of this silliness is Notre Dame's way of getting back at her for dissing their hideous new football helmets, since those football helmets are supposed to provide a safe and sturdy cushion for when the players fall down and smack their own heads.
So I suppose that in addition to the fuzzy socks and eighteen year old sweatpants that are the normal get-up around here, I can expect to see a shiny gold helmet bobbing around the place looking for trouble.
We're hurtling into the weekend and are expecting some snow. I don't know what this will mean in terms of stitching selections around here, but I promise to update you further as time allows. Until then, I hope that you have a warm and cozy and safe (!) weekend with you and yours and that you get to do whatever it is that your very own heart desires.
With love from your pal,