WHERE I TRY TO BLOG ABOUT OTHER THINGS

My toes are peeling off. I blame it on all the barefoot related things that I do. I know that this is what pumice stones and even the PedEgg (shudder) are for, but really? I barely make the time to trim my nails, let alone scrub the dead skin off of my feet. As I type this I can hear my sister-in-law saying that I have my brother's feet or that I have Graham toes. There was a time when this would have bothered me immensely.

You see, I don't really look like anyone in my family. Actually, my sister-in-law and I are often mistaken for sisters (or sometimes, much to Katrina's shagrin, mother and daughter). My sister used to joke that I was the Milk Man's kid, which was suspicious because at the time we really did have a milk man. Then there were the teenage angst years where I prayed that I had been adopted.

Now, I'm OK with all of that. I have McCool eyes and a Graham nose. I'm a patchwork blend of my family, all of which mixes together to make me the truly unique person that I am.

Wait. Wasn't this originally an entry about my scaly feet? Oh well.