Are We At the Caboose?

A couple more cars on the purple train started yesterday:

My therapist gave me these today as a late birthday gift.  (We've been "together" so long that we joke we could switch chairs in the office and get just as much done.)  I don't know why that one rose stem bent on me.  Maybe as I tried to get everything in the vase?  At any rate, they're so pretty and so much appreciated.

I got myself a new crock pot (or slow cooker these days, evidently) the other day.  It's a little guy, 'cause I'm sure not cooking for crowds anymore.  The one that I had to replace was a wedding gift, I think, so I can't complain about it lasting 40 years.  This is the new one:

On the bottom of its carton was this:

Ohhhhkay...  I'm well past reproducing, and please, Fates, let me be done with cancer.  The warning, though, is due to chemicals you might be exposed to.  It isn't clear where the chemicals are, though.  The paint?  The heating case?  The lid?  The crockery itself?  It's sad thinking you might have to wear a hazmat suit to make some chili.