Many Little Things

I've recently encountered a few etiquette questions - I'm not in breach of etiquette, but I am at least in one case, the recipient of a breach.  Nothing major - it really reminds me that when I was a kid, my mother had an ancient (to me) Emily Post book full of useful information about how to outfit your servants based on the size of your household.  Lots of organza cuffs, collars and whatnot.

There was a section about what your wedding trousseau should include.  How many housedresses, aprons and traveling suits.  Because one should not go overboard when making apron purchases.

My trousseau, such as it was, contained no traveling suits, but was a U-Haul full of stuff that my new husband drove to Nashville. I followed in my Toyota Echo with my faithful canine servant, Lola.  Her organza collar was packed.

Not Dress Barn.  But kind of amazing...

I should buy a traveling suit.  I should do it at Dress Barn, because they're going out of business.

Meanwhile, Piper headbutted my right shin while charging the backyard this weekend.  I can't blame her.  She was excited because her little friend next door came by for a visit.  Such a dollbaby. 

But I have a huge hematoma on my shin. The same color green as the travelling suit above.  Because there you are.

Growing up, we used to call them "hemotomatoes".  Because.  Much like we corrupted the word "flamingo" into "flying mingo".  In both cases, I think the bastardized word is better than the real word.  I always think of the pink birds as "flying mingoes".  

All of which is to say, I have a fat knot on my shin, and it hurts.

I also woke up with my mouth hurting because I got a dental cleaning yesterday, and my hygienist got a little aggressive.   She also asked me if I brush daily.  She quickly corrected it to ask if I floss daily.   Yes.  And no.  In that order.   I floss, yes. Daily? No. Sorry, not sorry.

That is enough from me, from here, for now.

Peace and Chicken Grease.
A