Toes and Puppies and Fashion

It's almost time for surgery.  I had a pre-op dream last night.  The clinic was like a gigantic Costco warehouse and you had to sign in.  There were two stamps, think rubber stamp and large inked pad.  The one in English was missing but the Spanish intake stamp was there.  You stamped your paper (I don't know where the paper came from!?! It's a dream) and filled in the sheet.  We wait for a long while, Pkin and I. 

The doctor comes in from the side area, with lab coat flying with his speedy walk.  It seems like he's speaking Chinese.  We finally get called in.  I go into an area like a small basketball court, it's a wooden floor but springy and raised.  The doctor is now a woman, but the same person, who speaks perfect but very fast English.  I run up and down the "court" raising my arms as directed.  She declares that I don't need surgery but then looks at my feet.

The toes on my right foot are splayed apart, like the branches of a tree, and growing just to the left or right of each toe is a toe-nub.  It looks the first joint of the toe but without a nail.  The doctor decides that I do indeed need surgery.  And then I wake up.  Do you think I'm stressing?

Next, there is another canine in our life.  Long story short, he was abandoned we think.  He's bigger than Rosey and a puppy and a whiner.  And he's a he.  Pkin now has a two to one testosterone advantage in the house.  If Typepad hadn't lost my entry over the weekend, you would have read about how Pkin is turning my very estrogen world on it's head.  Now Big Steve is adding to the imbalance.

And lastly, fashion is on my mind.  Mom saw something on TV describing appropriate footwear for Corporate America.  My sandals of choice are not appropriate.  I guess that's why I'm not moving up the company ladder anymore.  Someone else commented about seeing an Oprah where the advice was against wearing bright colors as accents over a monochrome top and bottom look.  I'm wearing sandals and a hot pink short sleeved sweater over a white top and white pants.  I'm doomed!

Comments

[Laurie]

I love how all these shows give advice like they have any idea what the corporate culture is where someone works. We wear jeans and flip flops at my company. And if you wear anything nicer, folks ask if you have been to see your parole officer.