Irony

I've been feeling a bit Irony lately, my dependable workhorse of an iron went all wonky, refusing to come to temperature.  With my pressing needs for quilting that just isn't a good thing.  So off to the store to purchase an updated iron, with a wonderful 12 foot cord that swivels in the socket, an enormous water reservoir so I don't have to fill it constant for steam, and best of all, it has 6 heat settings.  Doesn't take much to please me these days!

Much better.

Pet me.  Now.

Irony: Feeling great affection for the very creature that would cause my allergic demise without the miracle of modern medicine.

The lovely person who is Mr. Macaroni's personal care attendant makes frequent image recordings of his handsome self.  He has become a loving cuddle bug, so different from his old frightened feral self.

 Irony: Disliking heights and flying machines and having an adult son who adores extreme adventure and not being content to merely be outstanding in his field(s), occasionally flies above them.

Irony: being dependent on my hands for all that I do, pottery, sewing, typing, and having the gradual handicap of arthritis.  One of the challenges of potter's games at the art center's annual fundraiser is to sit on a tall stool and throw a pot with bare feet.  I hope it doesn't come to that, but I probably should start toe exercises just to discover how nimble and strong those digits are. who knows, it might start a new pottery revolution! And think of the exfoliation benefit to rough callouses!

Namaste