Purple Haze

So, let me just start with a warning tonight. If you do not want to see gross body parts, this is not the blog post you're looking for. You have been warned.

See that picture below? Does that look like a woman who is easily embarrassed?  Yeah, she is definitely not. As a matter of fact, I am usually the one doing the embarrassing and it's usually not completely on purpose. Unless you're my sister, then it's totally intentional. 

I am that grandma who will do whatever the grands want if it entertains them. Dress me up like Cat Boy or whoever this Paw Patrol, Power Ranger, Ninja Tortoise is and I will become a key player. The same goes for my adult friends. Ask me to dress up like a hobo and go toilet paper someone's house with you..... ok, I'm actually not sure about the legalities involved with that one so I cannot confirm nor deny at this point. All I know is next time I'm wearing my Dinosaur costume that my friend Marie sent me for better camouflage. Oh, don't act like you've never done it.

Take me to Europe and give me booze on the beach for breakfast, I'm in. I will drink and swim in the ocean all day with you. One thing I won't do is throw rocks at you when I get too much breakfast in me. What I will do is come out of the ocean like the Creature from the Black Lagoon and embarrass the rock thrower to the point that he will never look at another rock until the day he dies. Just ask those two local fellas who witnessed the entire fiasco. They'll tell you it was unforgettably entertaining in a scary American sort of way. Was I embarrassed? Not. One. Bit. 

I have walked across our front lawn carrying dozens of eggs for a customer waiting at our gate, only to get ten feet from them, trip in a snake hole and go flying flat on my face. Did I break any eggs? Nope. Did I jump up and yell, "And for my next number!" Yep. Was I embarrassed? Nope. I couldn't stop laughing and told them how disappointed I was they didn't get it on video. We could have made Internet money with that beauty.

I've accidentally walked into the men's locker room at the gym, the men's bathroom at a concert, and found it hilarious. I'm sure the men didn't appreciate a woman walking in on them and then laughing hysterically but was I embarrassed? Not even maybe. 

This last Christmas, when I was in a wheelchair with a broken ankle and torn ligaments, did I cry about it? Ok, maybe I did but that's not the point. I was never, not even for a moment, embarrassed. One of the best moments was rolling into Patty and Mark's house that week and Patty and I bursting into laughter when we saw one another. Hey, that's how we roll. 

So, all that to say, I know I should probably be embarrassed by what's happening to me right now. I am positive my mother and sisters would be mortified that I am posting these pictures and laughing like the fool that I am. My dad, I am one hundred percent sure, would be laughing with me and coming up with some brilliant one-liners. I just don't feel embarrassed, y'all. I am sort of fascinated in a Bride of Frankenstein sort of way.

Five and a half months after my injury, my legs and feet still don't match.

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See! I told you and you didn't believe me, did you? That's probably because of all those years of hearing my sisters say how dramatic I was about everything. Well, who's dramatic now!?!? My left foot and leg are not only larger than my right but they're purple! Ok, purple is my favorite color so I've got that going for me. The scars are pretty great and help me sell the story that I was in a bar fight instead of the boring truth that I fell while walking old. I'm thinking I could probably join a carnival and make money as the bearded, two-toned, fat lady. Ok, maybe I don't have a full beard. Yet. 

My cousin Cher felt really bad for me when she heard I can't get shoes on. Well, technically, I can get a shoe on my right foot but then I have to hop everywhere and that's just ridiculous at my age. Anyway, Cher sent me these great slippers to wear around the house and in the yard. I love them especially because that big cow looks how I feel. He gets me. Oh, and all those scars on my right leg aren't all from the fall, just a few around my ankle. All the rest are from several years ago when I was wearing sandals and stepped in a nest of Yellow Biting Flies. Funny story, turns out I'm allergic and had to go to the ER. Twice. I was schooled, both times, by the ER doc who told me I was insane to live on a farm in Florida and walk around in sandals, feeding chickens and pigs and cleaning out barns. I told him I was Swiss and I laugh in the face of danger. Then I swelled up like a blowfish and cried. That was fun.

Before I received Cher's awesome cow slippers, I ordered these beauties. I had to have slip ons because eventually I wanted to leave the farm and actually see the world outside our gate again. And since I couldn't even wear my sandals at the moment and I don't like boring, I went with these. When we went to Patty and Mark's for Easter I had to choose between the Cows or the twelve year old boy slip ons. The 12 year old in me picked these for our Easter outing. I love hearing Patty laugh.