Tick Tick Tick

I haven't taken a shower in three weeks.

I haven't been to a store in three weeks.

I have not done one load of laundry (or even been in the basement) in three weeks.

I haven't driven a car, cleaned out a cat box, mowed the lawn, taken out the trash, danced, skipped, ran, tiptoed or even wore matching shoes.

But I have cleaned out many cupboards and drawers. I've spent way too much time at the computer reading other people's blogs. I've watched a lot of movies and TV. And I've been extremely well taken care of by the most wonderful family a girl with a bad wheel could hope for.

Did you guess that today is the three week anniversary of "The little slip that turned into a big thing"? Potentially today is the halfway point of my recovery, but I've got my fingers crossed for an early release from the world of crutches and crawling. I feel really good and my toes are almost back to a normal color, no more zombie feet. I have a huge list of things I could (and some of them should) be doing. So far the list has only resulted in making me feel guilty, so I've misplaced it and it's very difficult for me to search for something, so that's that!

Is this thing cute or what? A turtle timer! It's exactly how I feel!

First Day of Junior High

Off to Junior High go the boy and girl! Big time 7th graders! School now starts at a blurry 7:25 AM, which means we have to get up at around 6:30! Not cool! The sleep loving Andersons are really going to struggle with this early time. The man had NOTHING nice to say about it this morning!

They came home all smiles and very excited. I hope that they have lots of positive experiences in junior high. The strange thing for them will be that they are in every class all day together, except gym. Getting sick of each other is a distinct possibility.

I'm one of the few people I know who can say this, but I loved Junior High. Elementary school was a daily horror for me and Junior High was a chance to be someone new. I didn't realize I was miserable at the time in elementary. It wasn't until I started meeting new people that I finally felt myself relax. My grades improved and so did how I felt about myself. And fewer and fewer people called me by the loathed nickname that tormented both myself and my sweet sister. ( I know you're shivering to yourself right now just thinking of it, H.) The gist of it is, there's something to be said about meeting people who haven't known you since kindergarten. I found it very liberating. And these new people, in Junior High, didn't threaten to beat you up for looking at them the wrong way or accidentally bumping into them! What a novelty!

And Junior High is just big enough that all those old "pals" were easy to avoid. I saw less and less of them, until by High School, there were barely any left at all. Who knows where they all went; just blew away I guess. Well, not all of them. Just before the YMCA closed I saw Angela H., who was one of those K - 6ers' back at the old stomping ground. I hadn't said a word to this woman since probably the last day of sixth grade. I can't recall ever seeing her after, but I guess she was around. (I looked her up in my yearbook and we graduated together. What d'ya know!) She recognized me right off. (Damn this youthful look of mine!) I didn't know who she was until she introduced herself. We had a very nice chat-- and then she called me that name. I think I actually saw red. I don't know, it's all a blur. I don't know what I said, I hope it was something polite, but I know that I cut out of there quick. Sometimes the past REALLY needs to stay the past!

Still no dancing...or anything

Dr. Feet says I'm still off mine for another two weeks minimum, four more most likely. And yes, I want the bone to set correctly so I will be a very good girl and stick with the crutches and the crawling. But damn, this is the most bummed out I think I've ever felt! Send more happy thoughts! This girl is going stir crazy!

The cats had their one year birthday on Sunday. One year of these little furballs in our lives and honestly, I'm so happy with them. All three of them are so different and funny. I love watching them run around with each other and watching them interact with Marco is gold. He's been the best about them being here.

It's hot and it's sticky and the neighbors seem to be having issues with their pool, which is making my kids have issues. Nothing cools tempers like a dip in the pool around here. Ah well, there's always spraying each other with the hose. No wait a minute, that makes people mad too. Oh no! We're screwed!

History with Legos

It's time for a little history. The girl and I recently caught the last fifteen minutes of a show about the ancient wonders of the world. We saw the part about the Temple of Zeus in Olympia. If you want to know all about it, here's a very easy to read description.

Being instantly inspired, we bring you this:

The Saga of the Poor Greek Peasant

"Ah me! I have no livestock. My crops are dead. I am alone in this miserable little hovel. My existence is empty and void of meaning."

In an attempt to bring a change to his stagnant existence, our hero decides to make a pilgrimage to the newly constructed temple to Zeus built in Olympia. Perhaps there he will receive the god's blessing and his life will become whole. So off he sets, over mountains, across rivers and deserts and through creepy forests and swamps. Luckily, the whole way was well marked.

"That must be the Temple up ahead there. Boy, that is a whopper! Where did they get all that marble anyway? Zeus must be very pleased with such a monument to his glory. I hope there's no admission price..."

"Look a the size of this door! My hovel could fit in it three times!"

"Whoa! Look how big he is! ZEUS! You are indeed mighty. I have traveled a long and hard way to pay tribute to your greatness. Pity me, my Lord! I am put your poorest hovel dwelling servant!"

Our hero lowers himself beside the reflecting pool with Zeus looking down upon him. And as he prays, he feels a lifting of his spirit as if all his troubles were sliding off his shoulders.

The poor Greek peasant, overwhelmed with emotion, throws himself into the reflecting pool and begins to thrash about wailing and sobbing. He's never been so happy.

"Excuse me sir. Temple Security here. We're going to have to ask you to please get out of the holy pool and exit the temple immediately."

Feeling renewed, like his life once again has purpose, our hero marches home, ready to devote himself to Zeus and becoming a better peasant. Unbeknownst to him, there is a surprise waiting at home...

"But...but...What is this?!?!? My fields are green? Where did all these animals come from? And who is THAT? Oh, Zeus! Have I been rewarded for my toils? I am not worthy!"

"Wow! And she's a babe, too! Thank You, Zeus!"

So that's our story. Here's a few more shots of the temple, without our hero. I would like to say that we left the one side open on purpose, so you could see inside, but the truth is we just plain ran out of white Legos. None of the websites mention this, but on the show said that they now believe there was a shallow pool of water in front of Zeus to catch his reflection. We added that detail to ours as well. We hope you enjoyed your history lesson!

All the Gnus

The trip to Dr. Feet today didn't go exactly as I hoped. My hope was this:

"What a miracle! Throw those crutches away and let's go dancing!"

Instead, I got my cast removed, but only on the promise that I would put no weight whatsoever on my foot. Now I'm wrapped up just in the Ace Bandage and still wearing the hideous boot. I am threatened with the immediate replacement of the cast if anything goes wonky in the next week. So because I want this to be over in the minimum amount of time, I will continue with the bruising crutches and let my poor injured limb float along.

My foot is a terrifying sight to behold. My mom asked if it was black and blue just now on the phone. I wish. It's more like green and yellow. The man called it a zombie foot, it's that repulsive. But Dr. Feet is pleased, so I am too. I see him a week from today. I'm hoping the good news train just keeps chugging along.

No time to say goodbye

I've been watching a little TV lately. Okay, a lot of TV. Much more than I'm used to. Shows, movies and lots of commercials. And here's the thing I've noticed: Nobody says goodbye to the person they are talking to on the phone when the conversation is over, especially if they are talking on a cell phone. It doesn't seem to matter if it's an argument or casual chit-chat. One of the parties decides that the conversation has come to an end and flips their phone shut. No "Goodbye" or "See Ya" or "Later!" and definitely never "I love you." Just a snap shut and on they go on with their business, probably involving calling someone else right away. Does the person on the other end keep talking for moment or two? Do they, once they figure out that their friend is gone, just assume with a chuckle that the call was dropped? Maybe they wait a few moments staring at their phone, wondering if they should call back.


In the real world, this is caledl "hanging up on someone" and is considered extremely rude. You hang up on people who have made you so angry or upset that you can't imagine saying another word. You hang up on phone solicitors. You hang up on heavy breathers and kids who ask you if your refrigerator is running. But for the most part, in a civilized world, a simple goodbye is the proper way to end a phone conversation.


I must have missed something along the way. Because it is a rarity to see anyone give any kind of farewell on the phone in TV or movies. The closest you get is "Okay". That seems to be the new "Bye".



A phone chirps some annoying ditty...


"Yo!"


"Hey, if you're coming over bring that box of stuff we talked about before from that place."


" 'K!"


Both parties slap their phones shut with a flip of the wrist.


Maybe the media doesn't want to waste our precious viewing time with antiquated niceties. You can get a lot more story in if you cut out manners. "Please?" Please! "Thank You?" Umm... no thank you! "Excuse Me? Pardon Me? I'm sorry?" Boring!!!


I started noticing this because we were watching "Big Love" and there was this new supremely creepy character that did the most interesting phone sign-off. He got off the phone like he was signing a letter-- "Most Sincerely Yours Hollis Greene". He said that. Not once, but a few times during the episode and every time you sort of squirmed because it was so strange and yet so very polite as well.


It's possible that I'm being over-sensitive here. I am in fragile state and getting cabin fever to boot. Boot! Get it! That's a joke son! Broken foot humor, that is! I keep pitching 'em and you keep missing 'em!

And this little piggy stayed home....

The trip to the podiatrist today went much better. This girl has finally received quality medical attention. Dr. Feet (not his name, of course!) said that I don't have a true Jones Fracture, but some close cousin that's not as big a deal. Still it's a broken bone. I saw the x-rays today. No doubt on that. But it probably won't need surgery to put back to right.

Now I'm in a what is called a soft cast, surrounded by layers and layers of wrapping topped by a big heavy, ugly boot. But all of this has made me feel better; the consistent aching has subsided. I have to wear all this and not get it wet and never put it on the floor until Tuesday when I might-- JUST MIGHT get to start putting weight on it. That means walking without crutches! HURRAY! The bruises on the insides of my arms are just the start of what they'll probably look like by then. Not pretty.

I officially bowed out of being in the play. There's just no way I can do it. It wipes me out just going from the kitchen to the couch. My director was really understanding and cool about it. Maybe next time...

Thanks for all the notes of sympathy. Go ahead and send some words of encouragement to the man and the kids. They're really doing a great job around here taking of things, and me!

I've stepped in it now!

Yesterday, after bowling MY BEST GAME EVER, we meandered over to the arcade. Over in the corner was Dance Dance Revolution so I headed that way to give it a go. As I stepped over the machine to put in the money, I either slipped off the top or tripped, either way I came down sideways on my foot. I didn't fall, but it hurt, so I sat down right away. I thought I had just twisted my ankle, but a few little points and flexes didn't seem to go so bad. Then I tried to stand up. Big mistake. And then the pain got much worse.

So, a little bout of shock where I almost fainted, almost threw up, couldn't hear anybody or focus. A little scene with the firemen who came to my rescue and carted me away. A very long scene in the emergency room where I received most likely the worst medical care possible in a civilized country and Voila! I have what is know as a Jones fracture or a fracture of the 5Th metatarsal of my foot. My first broken bone ever.

Today it was a short trip to my doctor who wouldn't even touch me. Seems I need to go to a specialist for this. Why didn't the hospital tell me that last night? Like I said, worst medical care ever! So tomorrow, I go and see the foot guy who is actually a doctor whom I know and like a bunch, so I'm hoping I'll finally get some medical attention for my boo-boo.

But let me touch on the scene in the emergency room. First off, you know it's going to go badly when you get in as fast as I did. Registered right away and taken into the MedExpress in probably less than 10 minutes. That kind of service has to be balanced out somehow and it was.

We were there for three hours. In that time I got an X-ray which probably took about 10 minutes. Dr. Seuss came to talk to me for about one minute the first time and maybe 5 minutes the second time. A very clueless looking nurse wrapped up my foot in gauze and elastic bandage (less than $10 at Drug Mart), put me in one of those blue shoes ($15) and gave me a short lesson in how to use crutches (How much are crutches at Drug Mart? $30). And oh yeah, I said Dr. Seuss, that was his name and he introduced himself thus. I got to spend the other two and half hours making up funny rhymes to go along with the freak show that moved around us. And Dr. Seuss was wearing Crocs. Matter of fact, most of the hospital staff were. It was so disturbing!

So I'm on crutches here people and I'm very unhappy. I missed a play rehearsal. I'm supposed to go on a leader-only overnight at Camp T tomorrow. The family reunion is on Sunday. We were going to go to Cedar Point on Monday. And I have play performances Wednesday through Sunday next week. All out. All shot to hell with one little slip. Any and all sympathy will be greatly appreciated.

Walking on Sunshine

I'll get right to the point: I would like to see the return of the parasol as an accessory. And not just as a fashion piece, even though possiblitities abound, but also for its original use. Look at the word: Parasol. Para meaning partial and sol which is French for the sun. Parasol= Partial sun. Protection from the sun. In these days of slapping on SPF 50 in a non-stop manner to prevent skin cancer, doesn't the re-introduction of the parasol make sense?
Well, it does to me. I love to be outside, but I sneak around from shady spot to shady spot in an attempt to avoid the sun. I'm sporting a lovely half-healed sunburn right now from a trip to the beach last week. Granted, I deserve this sunburn, but I'm certain if I had any kind of tan one should have by August, it wouldn't have been so bad. But the fact of the matter is, I burn pretty easy. I've gotten sunburned at a particulary long flag ceremony. I've been burned on recess duty. I've been burned standing in line for french fries. Lots of things in life happen in wide-open spaces on very sunny days. And yes, you should have sunblock on, but I know I'm not the only person in the world who hates the feel and smell of that stuff!

So, back to the parasol. And I'm certainly not talking those lacey frou-frou things that four year old girls hold smiling for their Easter picture. And I'm not talking one of those delicate painted paper ones, a life-size version of the one in your tropical drink. No, I'm talking a modern, classy shade umbrella. Here's the one I like the most so far. It's just lovely. Simple and goes with everything. Everything that is except the world at large.

The problem comes with the girl. She like the parasol. But the idea of me carrying it around, let's say, at the county fair, is a little more than she can handle.

"Do you want to be known as the crazy lady with the umbrella?'

"Is that what you'll think of me, too?"

"Yes."

Hmmm. As much as I want a parasol, I equally don't wish to mortify my daughter in public. What is your suggestion, my three loyal readers?

In other news, here's the boy in his eyes. *huge sigh*