Happy Boot-Day to Me

Hard to believe it's been 3 years since I first donned das boot after breaking my pinky toe. You know, typical breakage when you're barefoot in the early morning and you accidentally step in cat poop and try to fling it off your foot and hit the door frame by mistake and break your toe. One of those typical breaks.

So glad I recovered and could resume full use of my pinky toe. Oh, how do we use it? Definitely a part of balance when you're on the golf course and you're putting or chipping with your un-level ball above or below your feet. Or when you dig into your sand stance in a bunker.

Not that I've done that recently. Or all of those one night. I mean, unless you count tonight.

Got to sub again for the Monday night league at The Ridges. A day after a round with two pars and a birdie, I was flying high on that false confidence you get after a good round. Because reality always crashes that down.

Still, I had a ball tonight...

We won't win any prizes but we had a good time. I tried to teach these ladies the finer points of grunting to get that ball going. Not everyone is into that. At least it helped me on the par 5. Not saying I parred it.

Hey, just because my toe and foot have gotten better over time, doesn't mean my golf game has. I wonder if they have das boot for that?

Keeping Step

Pretty sure you've realized I am one of the most impatient people out there. One week out of my boot and I am wondering why I can't be running again already. Well, that's obvious, Robyn. You haven't mastered walking!

This week, I have been doing some walk breaks – like the old days – which equate to about a mile each time. But I haven't gone beyond that and strung two 15-minute breaks together. Until tonight.

When I got home tonight, my friend Cindy and I walked down to the end of Deer Road and back. Two whole miles. Do you realize that's the farthest I've walked since I turned 50? Sad, but true.

That was 4 hours ago and I am feeling no pain. I mean for real. So maybe I can keep easing into this using both feet business. At this pace, I could work in some running by Monday.

Hey, I didn't say which Monday. Patience, Grasshopper. One step at a time.

Pinky Swear

I went for my second 3-week checkup today at the Bone and Joint Clinic. Or as math geeks would point out, my 6-week followup since there was no healing progress at the 3-week point.

I didn't want to jinx it like last time, assuming it was all healed and have my toe nails painted and a nice sandal ready for my left foot. In fact, when the doctor came in after the X-ray today and said "It's healing nicely," I expected a "But... you still need to wear your boot for 8 months."

You can't imagine my joy and surprise when she announced I could part ways with das boot!

Of course, I still had to wear it back to work without my backup shoe with me. But tomorrow I can wear a matching pair of shoes for the first time since early July! Yipee!

An no, I'm not jumping into heels. The doc said that might take 6 months, seriously. But I don't ever wear heels anyway. Seriously. I do have to be sure I am in comfortable, not-too-snug shoes for awhile as it continues to heal.

I asked about walking and running and all that. And she's like, "Whoa, whoa, whoa. You haven't even been walking for six weeks. Don't start running out of the gate!" I know. I have to build back up to walking 10,000 steps a day without pain before I can think about starting my running routine all over – again.

And I still can wear the shoe/boot around the house instead of bare feet so I don't bend it out of proportion. Or god forbid, step in cat poop again.

I swear – no, I pinky swear – that one of us won't survive that again.

August Comes in Like Taz

Why does March get to be the only month that goes in and out like animals? No need to repeat lion and lamb. I'm thinking more like a sloth versus the whirling dervish that is the Tasmanian Devil.

July definitely ended that way and August started that way!

Got to be too late last night to blog. Had full day at work then back to back to back meetings at church. Then light grocery shopping followed by freelance work and a 1 a.m. bedtime.

Today I had a little more than a half day of work, then my 3-week check-up at the Bone and Joint Clinic. Guess what? My little pinky is being stubborn. Three more weeks in das boot!! Grrrrr.

From there, I booked it to Rapids for a 3 p.m. Wednesday afternoon wedding of two of Carter's classmates. They wanted to have it before the groom is deployed this month. From there, I went downtown for the community picnic.

The community foundation asked me a few months ago if I'd "volunteer" to take pictures. So I signed up, not knowing of course that I would be mildly handicapped and that it would rain Thankfully the rain was short-lived. My friend Kim caught me in action, though. Proof I was working.

From there, I booked it home and hubby went to pick up some pizzas in Stevens Point to deliver to the wedding party.

Is it Friday yet? Because I am exhausted. Every thing has been important but the Tasmanian Devil of a schedule has me dizzy.

Cross your fingers for nice weather tomorrow so I can escape in my kayak after work! Taz can't reach me there!

Hobble Stone

Since it's raining tonight – finally! – there will be no golfing or kayaking for this adventure girl. Instead, it's back to my Sweden scrapbook. I really need to get my uff da mojo back to finish this thing!

As I looked at these pictures of the various cobblestone streets we walked in almost every town, I am so grateful I didn't break my toe until after we got home. Despite the pretty stone layouts in the photos above, most streets were uneven terrain. It was hard enough to walk without having toe, foot, or leg issues.

They really should be called "hobble" stone streets.

Which is pretty much any place I walk these days. Can you tell I am so over this waddling business? Having the most impatient person in the world WAIT for something to heal is, well, torture. Probably for everyone around!

At least I am getting a little more comfortable in my stride. Evening it out a bit. Still confining myself to pretty much walking to the restroom and coffee shop at work. And no laps around the neighborhood when I get home.

Maybe this rain will be a good thing. Help the grass, the crops, my flowers... and keep me inside multi-tasking (aka resting the foot and scrapping).

One of these days I wouldn't mind resting it outside in Mr. Deck Chair. He misses me. He sent me a Get Well card and everything. (Yes, I may have injured my head in the Pinky Incident.)

Quit While You're Ahead... or Not

Have you ever played a slot machine, scored big and you know you should cash out but you "just gotta see" if maybe, just maybe, you'll win even bigger if you keep playing?

That was my golf game tonight.

I was subbing for our work league and hoped I could replicate last week's great (for me) outing. And at the same time, tempering my expectations that it never happens two times in a row. But we were playing the back nine again so maybe...

Imagine my surprise – seriously – when the first few holes started like last time, with putts for birdie. Say what?

This is where my drive landed on the par 3 12th hole. And... drum roll, please... I made the birdie putt! Yes! I can count the birdies in my life on one hand, believe me! So yes, I was excited that the first four holes went bogey, par, birdie, par! I have never, ever had two pars and a birdie in just a 9-hole outing.

Never.

Plus 8 of 9 drives were on the fairway. So I was a bit pumped. I should have quit, though, after a long par 5 and still 3 holes to go. While I was wearing the doctor-ordered bootie and being super deliberate and careful, Mr. Pinky was starting to hurt a bit. "But wait, I'm having the round of my life, let's power through it!"

And watch the wheels fall of the wagon.

Gah. So predictable. I still managed to shoot my age again. Dang, really wish I was still in my 40s if that's how it's going to go! But I would never complain about a 50. Not this amateur.

As soon as I got to my car, though, and sat down... wow. Holy throbbing toe! I deserve that. I really do. I should've listened to my head (and toe) and quit while I was ahead.

But... would you?

No pain, no gain, I guess. I can rest it now... until next Tuesday.

Is There a Doctor in the House?

Kind of felt like I was under house arrest today. Hubby was very good at playing doctor. As in making sure I stayed home and OFF my feet. That's hard when it's nice out and it's Saturday and there is nothing on the calendar and I could have gone out and about at my leisure. Sigh...

But, no. Someone has to be the smart one.

Based on the fact, I am the one wearing the boot, it's not me.

So after I did my chores, I basically parked myself at the computer and working on my Sweden scrapbook. I am going through Shutterfly and am about to start page 30... which is also Day 6. For real. And yes,  I'm a little concerned about the page limits!

I also don't know when I can dedicate a big chunk of hours to it again. Am traveling tomorrow and busy Monday night. I do have time to do a few more tonight. I'll share a few pages to keep myself inspired...

Obviously, you can't read the fine print, but I promise to show you when I'm done... probably about the same time I get rid of this boot.

If the good doctor in the house lets me.

Just a Little Stitious

As Michael Scott once said in The Office, "I'm not superstitious, but I am a little stitious."

Frankly, Friday the 13th had nothing on me this year... hobbling around with a broken bone caused indirectly by an almost all-black cat. One would hope I'd be just about out of bad luck. I say "hope" because if I say I am then, well, it's not quite midnight yet. Still early enough to jinx myself.

I don't put much stock in superstitions so I purposely go out of my way to avoid them. Oh wait, that does sound a little stitious.

Let's just say I had my usual casual Friday... a stop at the walk-in clinic on the way to work to seek pain management help, then a full work day waddling around the office (and appreciating elevators and escalators), then out for fish with our friends across the street. You know. Just a normal Friday.

After hearing of unlucky family members dealing with flooded basements after yesterday's rains came – north and west, not here – I was hoping this Friday the 13th would be remembered for a long, steady rain. Ball players and race car drivers wouldn't be happy. But the grass would rejoice. My flowers would gasp for a drink and smile. And our neighbors – and all farmers in our area – would breathe a sigh of relief.

But of course, that sounds too good for Friday the 13th. Hopefully Saturday the 14th will deliver.

I would like to just put my feet up (doctor's orders anyway) and watch it unfold. I'll just keep that almost-black cat from walking under a ladder or, heaven forbid, my recliner.

Fingers crossed... salt thrown over shoulder... good night.

Diary of a Wimpy Mom

Fifty years without a single broken bone and when I finally break the streak, so to speak, it's the teeniest tiniest bone. But you wouldn't know that from the size of the pain. Dang.

Yes, after 5 days of stubbornly walking on my left foot and enduring pain in my pinky toe, I finally decided today that maybe I wasn't just a Wimpy Mom after all. Maybe there's more to it than a stubbed or jammed toe.

Left work a bit early to make it the Bone and Joint Walk-in Clinic. Should be called Limp-In Clinic. And got there just in time before closing. I only had to repeat my story – stepping in cat poop, shaking it off my foot and smashing the door frame – three times. I think they've heard it all before. No eye rolling that I could see.

They really do quick work in there. Within a half hour I had been examined, had my X-rays, been informed my pinky toe is broken, then sent on my way with my pinky toe "buddy taped" to the buddy toe next to it.

Luckily, I'm not the first klutz in the neighborhood. My dear friend Cindy had broken her toe in the last 2 years and had to wear a stiff shoe that resembles the infamous boots you see – but a much more manageable size, especially for the injury. Since the doc ordered me to wear the shoe-boot thing for the next 3 weeks at least, I was able to borrow Cindy's.

Since my little piggy is still swollen, I have to care for it like I SHOULD HAVE all week! So for the rest of the month it's the boot. And I also need to elevate, ice, and rest it when I can, too.

Now I know for future reference that if you see stars after impact and think you're going into shock, it might not just be drama. It could be you broke something that shouldn't be broken.

And while I still want to blame Princess Poops-A-Lot for the whole fiasco, hubby (her human) says the Young Working Man should get half the blame since I was walking down the steps to wake him up.

Maybe they'll split the doctor's bill.