Adult Supervision Required

My Granny Hall (whose maiden name was Ida Mae Sammons), from Hartwell, GA used to tell a story about child care that always stuck in my mind.

She said that when a woman had children back then, but the time had come to get back in the fields, mothers with toddlers would take their younguns along ... and after arriving in the fields, the infants would be tied to a tree with a rope just long enough to allow the child a bit of freedom and movement, but not long enough to allow the child to get out of sight ... or into trouble.

This afternoon I was setting up lights for Friday, walking around the house in bare feet (a note from The Blue Book: it's called Bachelor Mopping), came hustling downstairs with extension cords and light heads in hand ... and stepped on an XLR connector I'd found earlier, and left by the stairs to remind myself didn't belong where I'd found it.

Are ya getting the visual here? Bare feet? Metal? Guess who's gonna win that one?

Oh my goodness. For crying out loud. For mercy sakes. Land o' goshen.

My right foot landed on the hard, unforgiving curved metal cylinder with such an impact that I went sprawling like a loose sack of coal falling from the top of a moving train across the hardwood floor ... and laid there stunned and stupid while Luke trotted downstairs to see what all the fuss was about, and then stared and started laughing in the way only a mongrel dog can ... I never said a bad word (unless you count screaming) but knowing nonetheless I'd broken my big right toe.

When's the last time you crawled around your house on all fours and laughed yourself silly at the same time ... for being so dumb and clumsy?

For Pete's sake, ya'll stop it.

Maybe I should start wearing shoes all the time, or keep a better eye on myself and my wayward habits. Intense, excruciating pain that causes swelling, redness and limits mobility is a good teacher.

Call today's event a self-correcting error. Really ouch, like, a whole lot and stuff.

PS. I've got an old photo somewheres, must be about 80 years old, of Granny and Pa Hall back in Georgia when they were in their 20s. I'm gonna try to find and post it.

In the meantime, here's a photo of me taken shortly after arrival. Note: the world really was in black and white till everybody in America had color TVs.

Get the ropes ready; it already looks like I'm dazed, confused ... and liable to go wandering down the nearest cotton row.