Tag Archives: body parts

Let’s play.

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Because it’s fun, that’s why.

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I’d be happier with changing one hundred things instead of just one at this point in my life.

Chubby thighs. Menopausal belly. Eyes that need reading glasses. A blown knee. They all drive me crazy, but if I only get to pick one…

I want my young feet back. Not these 60 year old hooves that ache with literally every step due to bunion damage. Finding comfortable shoes is a complete horror show if I don’t want to your wear grandmas orthotics… which I don’t. I may be 60, but I’m a rather young 60 and still care about style. Even if it’s only sneakers and boots.

I long for the feet of my 20’s, 30’s and 40’s when I could wear whatever I wanted.. pain free. Things started going south in my 50’s, but now that I’ve turned 60 I look down at my crooked toes and cringe.

Feet.

I want young feet.

How about you?

What body part do you want to change.

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Stiff…. Part 4.

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Yes, your favorite series about dead bodies is back.

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And today’s chapter is aptly named…

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Let’s dig in, shall we?

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You have to wonder what genius first came up with that idea.

“Hmm… what should we do with great Uncle Mortimer’s remains? I know! Let’s cover him in honey and bring a chunk of his thigh to the next neighborhood potluck.”

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Honeyed urine and poop. I’m beginning to notice a trend here….

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Mummies cure farting?

You heard it here first people.

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A wandering uterus is a terrible thing…. but I would think using dung to coax it back in place would have the opposite effect, as in “Hell no Mabel. I’m outta here!”

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Moving day should not include random body parts.

 

We helped a friend move last weekend.

Because… yes.

 

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Moving is hard work.

 

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There’s lots of stuff to pack…

 

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Lots of stuff to lift…

 

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And lots of stuff to push across homemade scrap wood ramps.

 

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What do you mean that’s not how professionals do it?

The silly thing weighed a ton and it got there.

Do we really care how?

No. We do not…

What we do care about is finding random body parts.

Tell me you saw it.

In the picture with my husband carrying the bright blue garden bench? Go back and look, I’ll wait.

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A random leg.

And it wasn’t the only one.

 

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The damned things were popping up everywhere.

 

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Bizarre?

A wee bit.

But some of our friends are as well, so it’s to be expected….

 

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It got to be a running joke about where they’d turn up….

So at the end of the day when we were relaxing with beer and bowls of chili?

 

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Naturally we needed a centerpiece.

 

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And P.S….

Just for the record –

As much as I wanted to move their 442 Olds right into my garage at home?

 

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I restrained myself from stealing the keys when they weren’t looking.

That my dear, is the very definition of friendship.