Saturday, November 01, 2008


I Walk Alone, I Walk Alone

And, apparently, with a bit of a limp.

So, I've been gone for a bit and all sorts of interesting fun and games has been going on, the highlight of which was that I smashed my foot so badly (twice) that I was unable to wear a shoe for almost three weeks.

I am a bit of a Luddite and I have only one phone (I also have a very long house, so if you call me and I'm not actually near the phone, I won't hear it). It's one of those big old things that weigh about 94 lbs and with the receiver of which you could easily kill a man. My supervisor from the "good" job (where I am right now in fact) called me one day and offered me a bunch of shifts that it just so happened I was able to work. As I moved towards the fridge (while holding the phone) to write the dates on the calendar, I guess the phone slid on the 800 pieces of paper upon which it was resting and slid off the counter, landing quite abruptly (corner-first, of course) on the top of my foot.

Nothing broken, but let's just say I shouted "Shit, shit, shit!" in my supervisor's ear. Fortunately she's a pottymouth herself so after ascertaining that I wasn't actually spurting arterial blood, all she was worried about was whether or not I was going to remember to write the shifts down on my calendar before I passed out from the pain.

You gotta love a woman with focus.

And then just as the foot was becoming marginally bearable (it's still vile but I managed to get a shoe on today, for the first time) I walked into our red Radio Flyer wagon (it's in the hallway, don't ask), damned near jamming my baby toe right back inside-out or something. It's black and purple. Very sexy. Be glad I don't have my camera at work with me.

(This post should likely have been entitled "Clumsy" but I happen to like Green Day more than Our Lady Peace, so there you have it.)

Please note that I come by this honestly. My mother apparently has a badly-bruised foot at the moment from dropping a bar of soap on it, FFS. Oh yeah, and once she dropped an entire sofabed right on the ball-joint of her big toe and smashed it into little bits.

You can stop cringeing, I'll stop with the horror stories now.

Anyhow, this wasn't intended to make anyone squirm (although if I managed I'll take that as a bonus) but to fill you in on some of the recent goings-on, Chez Lapin.

(Usually when I smash my foot it means I'm going to Seattle. I think the recent injuries are severe enough to indicate that I may even try for California in Feb for Stitches West, but don't hold your breasts breath. Actually, do hold your breasts. Wasn't it just breast cancer month? Go get 'em squished, ladies! Don't make me come there and do it myself. But I digress. Boobies make me do that apparently.)

Another high point is that while I've been flinging myself and my feet gaily about the (sharp and pointy) landscape, I've also managed to haul my ass over town a couple of times and if you happen to be in Vancouver and happen to be anywhere near Three Bags Full, if her horde of ravenous sock knitters hasn't picked her supply clean, there may be a skein or two of my yarn lying about.

Oops, and I've just remembered we're having a planned power-outage here in about six minutes which means I likely shouldn't be using up the generator power blogging, even though I know there are at least half a dozen of you who would have succumbed to terminal ennui had I not posted today.

Apparently they think emergency power to vital operational areas is more important.

Pfft, I say.

(bai, i also say!)

I clung to my old black dial telephone (remember dialing?) until the phone company dropped the REN on our phone line, and it was too low to make the bell ring any more.

We still live in Nowhere Land as far as cell service goes and only have a land line, but come the day we get cell phones, I am changing my ring tone to a good old Ma Bell black dial ringer!
If by even the remotest chance you make it down to CA for Stitches West, I'll seriously consider making my visiting father and step-mother sleep in the garage so you can have our guest room. (I'm pretty sure I'm not in their will anyway.)
"this wasn't intended to make anyone squirm"
oh hell yeah, y'think? My toes are curled up in my shoes quivering at the idea of such carnage. Must. Relax. Breathe. ahhhgh
Thank you for being You. and don't forget to Relax. Breathe. Pay attention.
Bruised and smashed feet = bad. (Just in case you weren't clear on that one already.) However, you coming to California would be good! (Not that I'm actually going to be in that half of the state, but still...) I hope the extra shifts went well, and that you didn't knock out the power grid with your selfish posting ;)
You are an amazing woman in a totally weird sort of way. If I still lived in WA I would be stalking you.
And to you *I* say, 'OWW!" Or, more appropriately (ethnically speaking) OY!! It's a nuisance, foot-bashing, because oft-times there's nothing you can do. Broken toes, for example - they don't make casts that size. I think the state of your foot should mean at LEAST two hours in a comfortable chair with a thrilling book, satisfying knitting and either a glass of wine or cup of tea, your preference. (Or, you know, three fingers of aged Scotch.)
Ouch. Many sympathies to your foot and pinky toe. I caught my pinky toe on a chair a couple months ago, so I have a fair idea of what the colors look like.

California for Stitches... that would be cool -- a chance to catch a wild Rabbitch sighting.
Hey, Rabbitch!

De-lurking here to give you a tip about your purple toe. I once broke my pinky toe (it got all BIG and purple); I went to the dr, had it x-rayed, and then they did a "buddy wrap"--they just taped it to the toe next door. That was the big fancy treatment for a broken toe. So save yourself some buckage and just tape your toe to its neighbor and then it'll heal right.

On a related note, my son just dressed up as a toe for Halloween. (I'll send you a photo if I can get it off the camera...)

Good luck!
Shit girl, now I've got an earworm from your blog. Refrains of "You'll NEVER walk alone!" ring in my invisible brain ears.

Sorry about the foot. There might be a cute walking stick you could use in all my crap you're babysitting since I usually have a cane in every port. They're also useful for bashing walnuts and tripping fleeing muggers.

Arnica. then more arnica. until the owie goes away. The stuff is a miracle.
Well, then. I see everything is "normal" here, so I can go on about my business. *hugs*

I'm a Klutz from way back. If I didn't have a bruise on me somewhere from some mishap, I don't know as I'd recognize me.

That said, I don't think I've quite hit your level. I can only imagine how painful that foot must have been!
I was going through my blog for discovery in my divorce (yes. yes, it came to that.) and I ran across guest posts you did for me and you posts pics of a bruised foot you had and why does this seem rather deja vu?
If you're coming to Stitches West you're welcome to stay with me and the kitties. I'm Canadian so you'll be safe. And I have beer.
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