A Sort of Project 365
I’ve seen this concept for a couple years now. I thought I’d give it a whirl. I’ll post a daily picture of my girls. Let’s see how this will work.
While I’m waiting for my pictures and camera, I will tell you all about the last week. I spent Christmas day vomiting. (The days leading up to that were filled by little girls vomiting.) I fell down the stairs. Again. This time, I damaged myself. I ended up with a fracture of the proximal fibula. My leg hurts like hell. The last two years have gone like this. Stomach flu right around Christmas. It’s teh awesome!
Picture post to follow.
Teva Mush Love
I mentioned before that I bought some Teva Mush sandals. They came today. I’m wearing one pair right now to break it in.
The deal with the Mushes is the, well, mushy part. It sort of gives away around your foot and cradles your feet. Kind of like a pillow top mattress, but you don’t wake up with a sore back.
We had a pillow top. It was terrible. I will never buy another one. I couldn’t move in that thing. I’d wake up with all sorts of aches and pains as a result. So we now have a plain mattress. Scott wants a Craftmatic. (I am not making that up.) I want a Sleep Number bed.
But back to my sandals. I love these things. It’s like wearing a custom shoe, but cheaper. I’m supposed to wear shoes unless I’m sleeping. (And showering. I can get these things wet, but it’s not going to happen on purpose.) The doctor offered me one of those pretty bootie things. I declined. He laughed at me, too. It’s alright, though.
I am trying to figure out if I want to take a chance at hurting my foot by riding my bike. I love my bike. It’s pink. There’s a shocker.
It’s NOT Broken
Guess what the doctor told me to do? Elevate it and ice it. And those x-rays hurt.
I did get myself some new Teva Mush sandals from endless.com. Until then, I get to wear the brown ones that have seen much better days. But, eh.
The One in Which I Give in to Peer Pressure
Scott has been complaining about the fact that I can’t really walk with my ouchie foot and, thusly, can’t really do anything around the house. Not entirely true. I managed to clean some of the kitchen yesterday. (At the cost of not being able to walk.) He pestered me to death (well, not literally as I’m alive to type this) about going to the doctor. Apparently, he’s under the mistaken impression that they have a magical elixor that will make my foot all better. He’s hoping for a boot.
*sigh* So I called. I could tell the woman at who took my appointment thought I was nuts. If anything is actually broken, there’s really not much they can do. Yes, there’s swelling, and, no, I can’t put shoes on. I’m pretty sure the doctor will restrict my movements further. There’s no magic wand he can wave over my foot and make it all better.
Why can’t my goofy husband understand that?
lifeinpink