Very often when I have a new ache, pain, or just something weird going on (which has been more frequent recently), I will tell my mom about it. And then she'll usually respond with something like, "ohhhh....I had that when I was your age". Or, "you take after your Dad. He always did that". Right or not, at least I have someone to blame. There is one caveat to this rule: if I'm discussing a really good trait, I will usually just attribute it to my personal abilities and or my really good luck. I don't inherit the good things. Only the bad things. I've found that this is a great way to go through life: take credit for the good and pass off blame on others for the not-so-good.
One of the not-so-good things that I am passing off blame to my parents and, specifically, my mom, are my toes. Kelly has them too. Dennis likes to make fun of them. He has sketched out a picture of my "Great Toe" on several occasions.
While in Aiken, SC this weekend visiting my aunt and uncle, my sister and I were having a very serious conversation. Kelly was dangling her feet off of the dock in their backyard into the water. My aunt mentioned that beavers are frequent visitors to the lake and their yard.
Kelly looked up at me and asked, "Do beavers bite toes?"
"Yes, Kelly, they bite toes. Especially yours. Your toes look like fat hot dogs. Beavers LOVE hot dogs."
You need to realize that when Kelly and I are around each other for any amount of time, both of our maturity levels take a nose dive. That is particularly dangerous when they aren't that high to begin with. That being said, Kelly called to my mom for support. "Mom, did you hear that? Krista said that my toes look like big fat hot dogs".
My mom replied in a very matter-of-fact tone, "Krista, they don't look like fat hot dogs. They look like sausages," and then continued her conversation with my aunt. She didn't even hesitate to share her opinion on my sisters hot-dog (or sausage) toes as she obviously already had an opinion -- and it wasn't up for debate. And, she was right. Kelly has sausage toes. And so do I. Mine are cuter sausages, of course. But they are still sausages.
Enjoy the few photos below the Steeplechase this weekend. And, you'll notice that our toes are nowhere to be seen. And for good reason.