As is his wont, The Boy has injured himself while playing hockey. Again. This particular instance involves a foot originally so swollen his shoes wouldn’t fit, and walking was a challenge.
A broken foot was bandied about as an idea.
Now, a day later, it seems that — despite some creepily divisive bruising — once the swelling receded, there was only soreness, no breaks. So that’s something to be thankful for: quick healing.
I’d had a couple CSA turnips in the veggie drawer of the fridge when The Boy and I headed out to the hometown for Thanksgiving dinner. I’d brought them along for the ride, figuring that they could be roasted along with all the spuds and parsnips. (Oh, how right I was. Delicious.)
Once there, my dad jokingly commented that we ought to “re-grow” the turnip by putting the top in some water. We complied as a joke. Now, three days later, it seems the new proto-turnip is mocking us all:
This isn’t meant to be favouritism, but it is fairly rare that I post good pictures of Guinness, simply because she’s really hard for me to catch. I’m not saying this picture qualifies as “good”, per se, since the couch is really not that colour, but it’s a good deal more detailed than the usual shots of her.