Merry Christmas to all the moms out there!

I am not even going to apologize for not blogging.

Hey man, when I find myself "having a life" and NOT sitting in front of the computer for entertainment, it has to be a good thing? Yes?

It is SAHM Christmas today.
I needed to publicly express my appreciation to all the school teachers and faculty who make it possible for me to regain my sanity.

Don't get me wrong, we had probably the best summer in Wadley history.
Why?
The pool pass.

I did not ONCE hear any of my kids say "I am bored."
I barely saw them this year.

Anyway, they all went back to school today.

"'Bye kids! Y'all don't come back for six hours, ya hear?!"
Even the baby.
She started first grade.
None of that half-day Kindergarten crap.

I gleefully sent them off, and now I am sitting here.
Paralyzed.
I have so many possibilities of things that I can do...by myself...that I can't do anything.

This plus the fact that I am injured.

I better back up a bit.
This:

Is my Hog.
It is a pretty sweet 1970's retro "Champ."
I like to cruise around on it.
Sam finally got it all fixed up for me this summer.
I feel like pretty hot crap on it.
Seriously.
It's awesome.
That Hog tops out at about 25 mph.
Nothing like feeling the wind whip through the hairs on your unshaven legs!

So anyway, it needs a new Petcock.
In case you are wondering, a petcock is a real thing.
Here is a picture of my petcock:

I have blogged about petcock's before.
About Sam's petcock.
HERE.
Maybe one day, everyone in our family can have their own petcocks.
That would make for a great Christmas card photo.

So my petcock is currently faulty.
It leaks.
And every once in a while, I get this random surge of power to the hog.
Well, last night, it surged as I was rounding a corner and I barely stopped myself.
Fred Flinstone like.
While I was wearing flip-flops.

The road took off the top of my toe.

There is going to be a graphic picture next.
Just warning you.
Are you ready?
If you do not like gross and inappropriate things, you are kinda on the wrong blog.
Just sayin'.
Anyway, here are my nine and a half toes:

It blew off my polish even!
The black parts may be tar or bruising.
No one can know yet.
I am not scrubbing it.
It hurt so farking bad that I took four advil and sat in the tub.

With my foot out.

I was in the tub so I could cry in peace, and blame it on the water from the jets.
No one wants to see an almost 37 year old lady bawling from an owie.
It's just embarrassing for all.

So after the Advil kicked in, I went to bed.
I wrapped it with a glob of Neosporine and a pantyliner.
Dude, it was too big of a job for a bandaid.
Don't judge.

This morning it feels a lot better.

But last night, I dreamed that I really wanted to go to the gym, so I put my toe in an old-school 35mm film canister, filled with cotton, and could still work out. YAY!

I am sick.
Who dreams about the gym?
I guess ol' Nine Toes does.

In spite of having only nine working foot digits, it is still going to be a great day here.
I will leave you with the wise words from the folks at Staples who so eloquently sum up my feelings this day:

<---here is the LINK, cause some folks are getting an error code for the above.
Enjoy!