NOT a New Photo

Okay, you were all right- the last photo was of the British Cemetery.

Here is Photo #2
Well, its taking forever to upload, so I'll talk while I'm waiting.

The local library has my been my home away from home these days. Every evening I take my laptop down to make use of their Wireless connection. I am working on a project (and hope to finish tonight) for my ESL certification. It involves hours of checking out ESL websites, sifting out the chaff, checking each one out, evaluating, categorizing, and labeling them. The end result should be a short listing of some of the best ESL websites. Not that I know much about it since I've taught a grand total of four hours in my entire existance.

Hmmm. something seems to have gone wrong with the uploading of that photo. Let me try again.

Taking forever again. Oh well, I can talk more...
Last week sometime I aquired a pair of boots at a consignment store. I had been eyeing them forever, trying to make up a good excuse to buy them. Mom came up from Georgia and we went thrift store shopping. I showed them to her, I recited my 'reasons' for needing them, she agreed, and now they are mine. I'll wear them down for the weekend get together so you can all see them. I call them my combat boots. :-)

Blast! WHY won't that silly picture upload? One more try.

Okay, so the reason I told you about the boots was because they led to an amusing situation in town today.
Background: Mom and Dad informed me recently that the clearest memories they have of my extreme youth had to do with my bumping into things and telling long boring stories liberally sprinkled with 'UMMMs' and 'ands'.

So as a result of thise early and uncorrected fault I still bump into everything. I can't go through a doorframe without hitting my watch on it, I sometimes trip on perfectly smooth surfaces or over my own feet, and I have cracked the back of my head on the ground because I was walking fast and flatfooted on ice.

I also pick up scuffs on the toes of my black combat boots for no apparent reason. These I actually have a hard time accounting for. Am I walking to close to the baseboards? Do I randomnly misplace my feet enough to kick white doors as I open them? Anyway, they don't come off. I can't come up with a preventative measure (stopping ingrained and unconscious habits of clutzy behavior is a major undertaking), so I need a good scuff remover.

I went to the Dexter shoe store in town to find one. A fairly normal individual told me they didn't have anything, but he thought lighter fluid should do the trick. Then his less than normal co-worker showed up. His voice was pitched rather high and had the most nasal sound I have ever heard! It was classic and I could hardly keep from laughing.

He agreed about the ligher fluid, grabbed a bottle of it and a paper towel and came around from behind the counter dumping some onto the towel as he went. He then procceded to kneel on the floor in front of me and spend a couple minutes scrubbing a white scuff off my shoe! He also continued to sing the praises of lighter fluid in his wonderful voice.

"Once I had paint on my car upholstery. Lighter fluid took it right out!" I mummur polite interest as he continues to scrub my shoe.

What an odd position to be in! What do you do? You can't really bend down to help, kick him to make him stop, or ignore him! His co-worker didn't seem to have anything better to do than hover around, peering at my shoe. That made three of us.

When he got done, I said thank you and walked out the door, barely containing my laughter until I got outside. But hey, the scuff mark is gone!

And the picture didn't upload. So all you get is a long, wandery story about essentially nothing. :-)