They are stretched out here in front of me and my light-weight thin-soled skechers feel wee bit tight, but I don’t want to slip them off – that will doom me to be sent on an errand or something. So I am leaving my shoes on and rotating my feet around, toes pointed at some far place. Yes, this is my moment: my feet. Thinking about my feet is keeping me from thinking about this post. I’m going to think feet some more; I think that is about all my mind is up to now.

Oh, I didn’t have to come back to check the spelling of hemorrhoid . . . because I didn’t blog about the management style of Rahm Emmanuel as described by a colleague: between a hemorrhoid and a toothache. So nevermind.

Indiana . . . what happened? My red state is blue? Well, in more than the color on the map. A lot of us are pretty blue this morning.

But then, we at the PBC&R are remembering a special warrior who quoted in 1976 another warrior:

I will lay me down and bleed a while
Though I am wounded, I am not slain
I shall rise and fight again.

So, let us get on with it . . .

I just came back from voting. It was a very solemn place. No one said anything really. No real smiles. Ironically, the day is beautiful here – blue skies and fall colors.

So, I vote today and I am wondering if this evening/night I will be saying, “Fasten your seatbelts; it’s going to be a bumpy ride.”

The dentist’s office called this morning; they had a cancellation and I was able to get my old filling replaced at 10:20 this morning. Well, to be honest, my dentist was alone in the office today and I had to sit in the comfy chair reading for about 45 minutes. Ah, yes . . . it was wonderful. They kept checking on me and apologizing for the wait and I’m telling them it’s fine. No one interrupting my reading. Oh, yeah.

So I have a new natural looking filling where there was metal before. We think the old one was allowing tiny parts of food get in and under it and causing discomfort; well, we’ll see how this one does.

After the numbing wore off, I ate a burrito supreme and had a mixture of Mountain Dew, Pepsi, Diet Pepsi, a splash of red punch, Baja Mountain Dew and  Sierra Mist. Don’t tell the folks here at the PBC&R.

Oh, no. It’s Venom 911. Of course, I must watch. Oh, heavens, a guy was bitten at a nursery. Ack.

Last night a KGB man in a fur hat and black leather trenchcoat was helping to give out candy at my house. With Sydney. I took a picture of them, but used my cellphone so I could forward it to Quentin and then didn’t really get one with my camera. I’m thinking, however, if I check the camera, I will find Alien Poo in a tree.  Summer hid behind the bushes; Alison put on a witch’s hat and Robert sat on the step with his black cast sticking out and actually did the ploppinp of  candy into little kids’ bags. Cameron (almost 16) slept through the entire thing. He came down later to mimic steering a car and saying, “Look out, small children.” (See entry below.)

I am going to the nursing home this morning (also see below) and will no doubt tell my story with many flourishes, acting out the parts of the K-9 cop, the dog and myself sobbing once I got home. I just felt that dog betrayed me: It was a speed trap. Well, get over it, AmeliaJake.

Hmmmm, I think I’ll wait until after the breakfast crowd to get over it. This morning, with every foldover will come a “tell over” of my distress.

My noble profile.

Okay, Anya and Shane, here is the initiation rite into the Q club. Run fast through the two trees in the foreground and keep going STRAIGHT really fast. hahahahahahahahahahaha.

Okay, Quentin, I had AJ (otherwise known as your mom) take some pictures of me and our old stomping grounds . . . just so you wouldn’t forget me. (I’m good, aren’t I? AJ taught me.)

Here I am at the corral.

The sky in front of the house.

More grounds de la fair.

At the tree you planted. It’s grown.

The tree de la tulip.

Zee big tall spruce. Jake, he has been giving me the Frenchie lessons . . . heh, heh.

Gaze upon my handsomeness, you little cute babyface.

Happy Halloween to you . . . I will zend you more pictures zoon, my little Q.