God Bless Gender Roles

As I spent a good majority of my first walking-Saturday at home, and was pretty mobile, I started to really appreciate taking care of my nest again. I cleaned, cooked yummy stuff, listened to Bon Iver on loop for about 5 hours, did a ton of laundry and burned a likely 3 pounds of incense.

I also came across a number of the gifts I received during Christmas this year and just had to show a few of them off:

Charity Foundation George has found a home upon my favorite chair.

I've been getting tremendous amounts of use out of m'new camera! Look, I don't even have to use my hands. It's magic.

This? This is a slow-cooker. I've used it 3 times already. By the smell of my house, you'd think I was Polish. NOM NOM pork roasts!
(...Behind it is a Victory growler which is severely underused.)

Malkovich & Divine: No commentary needed.

My newest centerbot.

Kate calls 'em like she sees 'em.

Last but not least, this beaut' was hand-made by my dad. I asked for a necklace holder to organize the massive amounts of jewelery that was mostly unwearable as it was balled up in a box. I honestly envisioned mug hooks in a flat piece of wood. As you can see, Dad does not do the bare minimum.
Look closely, he attached a cameo and a custom beveled mirror. Dang.

There's more, but most of them are practical items, or I took them to work and they're not laying around for me to photograph.

My point is, thank you to everyone. I'm a happy homemaker, when my surroundings make me think of you.

Memories... In the crevice of my boot.

GOOD NEWS!

I am de-pinned, de-crutch'd, and booted!  It all happened yesterday and since then, I've been leaping through the air with joy, and demonstrating my mobility.  Derek is mad I cant walk on water with the magic boot, and I've learned that stomping around on empty boxes with my new "iron man leg" is frowned upon in the corporate atmosphere. 

I drew some pictures I wanted to share with you, some of my best memories while being crippled: 

This is Stef, pushing me uphill at the Exton Mall during Christmas Season, after my arms got too tired to wheel myself.  

This is me on Tuesday night, when Kate and I were leaving Kennett Square.  Upon arriving on the 4th floor/roof of the parking garage.  I determined it was nothing but an ice sheet when my crutches went akimbo, followed by a cartoonish struggle to regain control on one leg. 

More cartoons to come, as I think of them.  I have to re-ingratiate myself into my social circles now that I'm mobileish again.  

Mean Mr. Mustard

I'm been disgustingly sensitive about my temperment lately. I took an online quiz tonight, What Beatles Character Are You?

I always thought I'd be the chick from Norwegian Wood, or maybe even Jude, since Jude is my favorite name. Alas, after 40+ questions, I was presented with the following:

You are: Mean Mr. Mustard

You scored 32 shyness, 36 bitterness, 40 moral, and 43 eccentric!

You are Mean Mr. Mustard, from Abbey Road! You're perpetually grumpy, and probably don't give a crap about what others think of you. Your friends probably adore your crustiness as mere eccentricity, but you tend to put people off. "Takes him out to look at the queen Only place that he's ever been Always shouts out something obscene Such a dirty old man"

Wow. But yeah, I guess it's true. Especially the Dirty Old Man part.

I had lunch with my Momma and my Broski at Applebees today before they carted me to the grocery, and I abruptly asked my mom: "Hey, do you think I'm negative?"

I had been crafting the question since last night, but it came out with such ferver that it was perfect and I'm glad I placed it candidly.

She replied with the most perfect stream of conciousness ever:

"Negative? Like, how? Like, down in general, or like a realist? No... wait. You're always really upbeat. But you don't take shit from anyone, you call a spade a spade. And that doesn't make you negative. That makes you strong and reliable. Oh, and you don't tolerate people who can't handle the truth. I think that's why people like you."

Mom. Wow. I love you - seriously. You just negated the stupid online Beatles quiz, and got quoted on my blog for making me feel awesome. <3>

t=c(5) =:(

My Sentiments Exactly

Today marks five full weeks of being a cripple. I know that my friends are tired of giving me special treatment, and I am tired of it too. I'm pretty sure the vein of resentment is beginning to flow rich with frothy spite.

I have no desire to do anything fun. I've grounded myself for the weekend so that I can save money and hopefully clean a bunch. (Note: It takes 10x as long to complete a task, when you have the use of one leg!)

Today also marks a completely worthless day of my life. The office is dead, and I'm again using my lunchbreak to blog-droll all of my drivel because I'm bored with catching up on work that no one appreciates, and I've already eaten my delightful Kashi Coconut Chicken & Lemongrass. (Nom!)

New Years Eve was fun, me and my cronies spent 16 hours in a cabin in the woods, and it was quite nice. I got lots o'pictures and videos - many of which I can not post. You can check out the passable ones a la Facebook. Here's a taste:

I got home around 11a yesterday and promptly fell asleep. I woke up around 7p, and started in on a marathon of Myth Busters, followed by another of The Cosby Show.

The Cosby Show has always helped me by boosting personal positivity, simultaneously making me question my self-worth. For example:

Me: Bill Cosby (nee: William Henry Cosby) dropped out of high school in the 10th grade?

My Brain: At least I graduated high school and went on to college.

Me: Yeah, but now he's a doctor and his wife is a lawyer and they're loaded living in Manhattan in a huge house.

My Brain: Dude, that's the show. Bill had to shine shoes and deliver groceries to make money before he finally got his diploma and then got an athletic scholarship to Temple.

Me: True. Its hard to remember that because the show is called "The Cosby Show", and its actually about the Huxtable family. Separating fact from fiction becomes a challenge when there's such parallels. Its like the DaVinci code, almost. Hillman=Temple? Why is Theo incapable of walking normally? He hops/jumps everywhere, and always has his mouth open. Is that supposed to encourage African Americans with A.D.D. to live normal lives?

My Brain: William Henry Cosby isn't even an American citizen. Did you know that? He lives in England. He's technically not even an African American. So much for being positive and encouraging.

This blog post was supposed to be cathartic, but I feel a bit more gloomy than when I started. And my allotted lunch-blog time is about to be over.

In all seriousness, I have high hopes for 2009. At least I didn't resolve to address more medical issues in this upcoming year. I just have to save money and lose weight. No bigs, right?

Kickapoo

One of the many blessings of being a female and posessing high levels of estrogen, is also posessing a heightened sense of smell.  This comes in quite handy when you attend wine tastings, or when you  live alone and need to sniff out dangerous things like midnight fires, gas leaks, or pesky Radon in the basement. 

Unfortunately, today, my office smells like a dirty diaper filled with Indian food.  

Either someone got their cheap Christmas cologne a few days early and decided to have a jump start on everyone else and musk-up while they'd still get obligatory compliments... Or one of the housekeeping staff barfed on the carpet over the weekend and was too sick to scrub it out. 

Have you ever had a sneeze-fest from a putrid, sour, urine-y smell?  Neither have I until today. 

Regardless, I had to take a Vicodin.  All the sneezing and dry-heaving was applying pressure to my foot, which caused throbbing, which became too distracting and I couldn't take it anymore.

And hey, its perfectly legal and prescribed ...so why not ease the Monday Malaise? 

Jojo, The Pin Cushion

In my last blog post, I promised a photo of my post-surgery foot.  My last appointment was 5 days ago, I haven't had much time to sit around and write a blog.  

(Oh - who am I kidding?  All I have is time!  I've just been lazy as hell.)

SO, click at your own risk, the photo is slightly gruesome - I don't recommend viewing if you're skeeved by the idea of a 2 inch long pin through my bone, and the head exposed outside my body. (That's what the yellow thing is!)  Regarde!

It hurts.  Well, not so much today.  But it sucks not being normal, which hurts my brain.  I am getting really tired of not getting around.  I'm ready.  I feel like I can walk on it, but I daresent do it.  I'm REALLY tired of not driving, and really tired of my pants being tight because I cant exercise.  That, and the Vicodin moonlights as G.I. Tract Spackle.  

Enough complaining.  I'm glad I did it.  Living with the "Claw of Death", aka "Thundering Hooves" (my former foot), was no treat.  Recent commentary on the Claw Hoof is as follows:  

"...That that old foot of yours looked like a alien was trying to poke its way out to earth."  

-LWin

She's right.  I don't mind talking about it now; it's gone, and will never be seen again. 

Can YOU Blow ME Where The Pampers Is?

Can you show me where the campus is?  Does anyone remember that movie?  PCU?  Right now I feel as mentally astute as one of the characters, Gutter.  Thanks to the ice-bath shock of being back in the office, and back to real life.

I've had an insane lack of interest towards any communication to the outside world since before Thanksgiving.  I attribute it mostly to my annual wintertime depression, the slump that I fall into when I realize that we have another 6 months until decent amounts of sunshine.  Truly, I don't know how many more years I can endure it.  

PA:  I love you, but damn.  

It could also be due to the massive amount of laziness and pain medication that is part of recovery.  That's just a maybe, though.

I had surgery on Black Friday.  

I had to wait for 2 hours in the surgery holding tank, between when mom had to leave and they were actually ready to butcher me.  I made a few new friends there, one of which was Terri, the OR nurse. She kept asking us the same questions over and over - which I hear is fairly common.  Like, "are you wearing any jewlery, or appliances such as a hearing aid?"  "What did you eat for breakfast?", trying to catch us, as if I'd lie about sneaking my jewlery or refridgerators into the OR.  (Get it?  Appliances?  Hahahahaha.)   Another friend I made was Angel, he was in for knee surgery.  When Terri asked if he was wearing any jewlery, he said "No, and being that I'm Latino - you should be shocked."  I lost it, I laughed so hard, and now I know why they ask. 

Anesthesia was fun.  It was like the best nap ever.  I told myself before I went to the hospital that I didn't want to go under all the way.  Turns out, I didnt have a choice.  When they finally took me in, some man who wasnt my surgeon grabbed my foot and perched it upon his upper belly and started to do things.  I remember how warm and squishy his belly was - and how much I liked it - and then I zonked.  I did wake up in the middle of the procedure, but it wasn't as horrific as I thought it would be.  I was actually interested to see what was going on. I started moving around and I think they noticed and remedied me.  

I was under specific instruction not to eat or drink anything after midnight the night before surgery.  No water.  If you know me at all, you know I always have a huge bottle of water with me and I am always drinking it.  I woke up at 7am, waited around until 1:30 pm in the holding tank to get sliced and diced, woke up in recovery at 4:00 pm... All I wanted the entire time was water.  Once I got to the recovery room, I had to pee from the IV but i was begging for water.  They told me they couldn't give me water but I could have ice chips.  ICE CHIPS!  Holy God, yes please!  They brought me a little styrofoam (grr...) cup filled with ice chips and a plastic spoon.  The nurse sat it on the table next to/behind me.  I reached for it in my groggy state, and promptly knocked the cup and its contents to the ground.  I was scolded and didn't get a refill.  I was a totally sad, totally parched panda.  

The rest of the recovery in the hospital is boring, so I wont make you go through that.  Home life has been interesting, and getting to know how to use crutches has been frustrating. I hate them.  Most things I am terrible at, I hate.  

Since I've been home, I've: 

• Moved two lawn chairs into my bathroom (one to sit on in the shower and one to prop my foot on outside of the shower)
  
• Broken my couch (I invented this new "fly over the coffee table, do a 180-spin and land on my butt" move, to protect my foot.  It appears that behavior compromises the integrity of antique furniture.)
  
• Learned new and interesting ways to get a mug of hot tea from the kitchen to the livingroom (move mug and then move self as follows:  edge of stove to side of sink, side of sink to end of counter near wall,  turn self, pick up mug, trade mug with crutch from left side and bend down with bad leg out to the right, balance as you barely reach the edge of the coffee table with the burning hot mug, release.  I haven't failed yet.)
  
• Turned my 2 bedroom apartment into an effieiency  (everything I use is within arms reach in my livingroom, I am starting to know how it feels to be a competitive video gamer who stays in one spot for weeks.)
• Not eaten any of my own food, besides yogurt (my dear mother has been so overly generous with bringing food, keeping me company or taking me out to dinner.  Fred made a ridiculously awesome dinner for Making Christmas night at his place.)
• Not been lonely or bored(Mom and Fred, Father and brothers, Stef have all been cripple-advocates, and make sure I want for nothing.  I've been really happy being alone, too.)
• Spent $15.  (In one week, I have only spent $15 of my own money.  This is amazing, and hasnt happened since I was about 10 years old.)
• Become addicted to Wife Swap (Seriously, it's probably playing on Lifetime right now... you should check it out.  I've decided that the worst part about being back in the office is missing Wife Swap.)
• Eaten an absurd amount of chocolate. (When you're sick, or otherwise stationary, people like to give you sweets.  Being an addict, who am I to object?  I think it's particularly cute that my mother bought me Hershey bars to help me "come down from the drugs when its time to detox", and she was serious.)

Lots of other things are going on.  Some very happy, some very sad.  I'll give more detail when I can, and I'll try to keep it lighter than this post from now on.  It's good to be back.  

OH, PS:  I cant wait to show you the picture of the giant nail sticking out of my big toe.  I'm taking a picture of it next Thursday...