Rockford: Do you know why the Utah Jazz are called the Jazz?
The Eldest Nephew: Because there’s a lot of jazz in Utah?
Narrowly skirting disaster
As Trash Gordon brought “Sesame Street” to a close, I headed upstairs to fetch an outfit for Poppy and a pair of socks for myself. I pulled on my cute and fuzzy new socks, grabbed pants, a top and socks for Pi, and started back downstairs.
Did I mention the fuzzy socks?
Did I mention the hardwood floors?
My fuzzy-sock-clad foot hit the top step, and WHOOSH, I was airborne. I came down hard on my heiny and my outstretched hand and bounced down the next two steps.
I’m probably going to have some colorful bruising on my backside, and I’m afraid I might have sprained my wrist. But I’m so grateful that I wasn’t carrying Poppy when I fell.
Poppy is getting an extra dose of TV while I ice my wrist and try to figure out how to dress a toddler with one hand. Oh gosh, and diapers. How the heck is that going to work?
In summary:
+ 
= 
Crazy cool medallions
I wish there really was a Barry Gibb Talk Show. I wish Jimmy Fallon and Justin Timberlake had their own show. About fighting crime. In leisure suits, preferably.