Apologies, even when they're heartfelt can be uncomfortable. You know, like apologizing for not blogging in freakin' forever.
Dear Chef~H, Pinky, AndiKandi and everyone else who has scolded, cajoled, pleaded, or given up on me ever posting again,
Are we all over that now?
Apologizing about my absence isn't what has really made me uncomfortable, though.
My daughter's really weird about feet. I mean, no one touches her feet. She doesn't like seeing or touching feet belonging to other people. She loves toesocks. She's a bit of a freak.
Me, I'm cool with feet. As long as they aren't dirty and don't have clawnails instead of toenails, they're mostly non-offensive to me. Don't tickle mine and we're going to get along just fine. I really don't like toesocks. I am also a bit of a freak.
I want to like toesocks. They're cute! The ones I purchased in yet another failed attempt to develop an appreciation for them even have monkeys on them! Monkeys! I love monkeys. I love socks! I like feet! Why, oh why, do I have such an issue with toesocks?
I was talking to my dear friend, Chef_H, the other day and she summed it up perfectly:
"It's like your toes are wearing thongs."
That Chef~H may have issues with fried chicken but she's a genius when it comes to toesocks.
Just a bit of a sidenote... I have Spock toes. If you know me in person, you've probably seen them sans socks. Seriously. Spock toes.
Live long and prosper, Internet.