Another scrape with age?

What I am about to describe here may be something that no one else has experienced, but I am thinking that age may have something to do with it.

The other night I was piddling around in my workshop, cutting some baseboard and base shoe trim for our utility room.

I was also doing a little painting so I didn’t wear shoes to keep from getting paint on my shoes.

Then it happened, but I didn’t notice. I snagged my little toe on our metal mud scraper and felt something but that was all. I walked through the whole house from the garage to the utility room on the other end of the house.

I looked down and saw there was a big round red pool of red liquid everywhere I stepped, and I have nothing to stop the bleeding.

Luckily, my good wife was home and heard the commotion—actually I was yelling for help. She came running with a paper towel.

Here’s where the age problem comes into play. I think my arms are shorter or my legs are longer now as I couldn’t reach my toe to stop the bleeding.

I ended up on the floor on my back with my foot up in the air and in a few minutes the bleeding had stopped.

In the meantime Nancy went through the house, wiping up the mess I had unintentionally left behind.

The Camelis will be in Kansas after all this summer— near fair time, but not for the fair.

They will be coming through Hillsboro by car after attending a wedding in Omaha and then back to Atlanta. Almost fair time is good enough for me.

But then I won’t have my grandsons’ help setting up our fair booth and tearing down like I have in the past.

Our Free Press fair booth at the Marion County fair will feature our book-printing operations. So if you have a book up your sleeve, please stop by and visit with me. And if you don’t, please stop by anyway.

I think you will find it interesting.

Since I have so many tools that I misplace on a regular basis, son Dan told me to put the tools I use all of the time in one location and get rid of the rest.

That’s a tall order for me, someone who never gets rid of anything because one never knows when one will need it.

I gathered a good-sized barrel full of small pieces of wood that are too small to use and took it to the transfer station last week.

I drove all of the way there with it standing upright, but when I drove into the transfer station drive it fell over and dumped about a third of it out.

How does that happen?

Some people tell me to keep the jokes coming and others say to leave them out So there will be more jokes, but not every week.

Remembering and telling jokes is a skill not all have.

If you wish to share your comments or ideas, my e-mail address is joel@

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