And now, a word from our sponsor...

"Sponsor" in the singular, meaning me. A little update on the goings-on chez Marie.

In late April, I had foot surgery (again, for those of you who were here around this time last year), and my mom came to help me for 3 weeks post-surgery. We didn't know ahead of time whether I would be on crutches or not - the surgeon, unfortunately, couldn't make a determination until she had performed the surgery. Most of you are probably not interested in the minute details of the surgery, but know that something that was supposed to take about an hour took 3. The bones at the base of my first metatarsal had not healed from the first surgery a year ago, so this surgeon had to insert a graft from my left heel to encourage new and complete growth. A screw from the previous surgery had broken off at a key juncture, and half of it was recovered and other half wasn't. In addition to that, she had to remove all of the other old hardware to replace it with a smaller (better) piece they didn't happen to have stocked in the surgery center, so it had to be special ordered in the middle of surgery. Yay for anesthesia. So you can see why I ended up with crutches after all of that.

While my mom was here, I got along really well. Of course - she did everything for me. The real test of how I would handle crutches came later, when she went home. Maybe I should mention here that I live in an upstairs apartment. I was really freaking out about the prospect of going up and down stairs on crutches. (Complete digression: I heard tapping on my back door just now, so I went to check. When I started this post, it was sprinkling rain, and now hail is beating down the door. It sounds like pebbles are being thrown at all of my windows at once. How romantic. Anyway...) I immediately arranged to stay with friends for the next six weeks, and I had decided in my mind that I couldn't go near stairs on crutches. I tried a few times while my mom was still here, and it went ok, but took a lot of effort. She devised an alternate method of getting up the stairs that was quite effective, if not graceful. I was determined not to go up and down the stairs on my hiney every day, so I started practicing (practicing? this was the real deal. Slow, but real.) and I actually got the hang of it pretty quickly. From there I learned how to hold a shopping bag on each side, how to get in and out of the car without falling in head-first, and how to tone my biceps without a single pushup. I could do this! I could actually stay in my own house. Upstairs. God gave me the strength to do something I had decided I couldn't do. Sometimes God needs a crowbar to open my eyes.

**********************************************************************************

It's been six weeks now, which is normally the point of healing at which the doctor will let the patient put weight on his foot, after this type of surgery. I was really looking forward to my doctor's appointment on Monday because I thought my crutch days were over. I appreciate my doctor's particular caution in this case, but I can't say I wasn't disappointed that she gave me another 2-3 weeks on crutches. I had plans, man! Plans that didn't involve the sticks! However, I was thrilled that she gave me permission to drive. Not just to drive, but to drive my car. This whole time since the surgery I was forced to drive automatics, since I had surgery on my left foot. I'm not complaining, because I found out I have some Pretty Generous Friends who were willing to let me borrow the husband's work car. This meant he would have to drive my girly car, with the Hawaiian flower in the back window. With the Imogen Heap cd in the player. With the tiny red handmade yarn-doll from a college friend dangling from the rear-view mirror. He was very generous, very generous indeed. I was truly blessed by their speedy response to my "Help me!... I can't... driiiivvee myyy CCAAAAAaaaaaarrrrrr...." (think the wicked witch in Oz), which I cried out to my church family in desperation via email.

I have a love affair with manual transmissions. With the clutch, the stick, the speed. Mainly the speed. I'm glad to have my car back.

*************************************************************************

So that's been life, for the most part, for the last 2 months. You probably saw my post on my new little nephew, whom I hope to visit in July. Little Luke makes me an auntie of 5 (!). I'll also be visiting California (probably) and Washington (almost certainly) in July/August. The grand trifecta. Sorry Nevada, you're just not cool enough. I kid. How could I leave out the state that contains the nephew with the bluest eyes I've ever seen in my life on a person that size? I'm trying to work out a trip down some time in between all of these other trips. One of the big scheduling questions for all of these trips revolves around what day I'll be able to wear normal shoes again. Seriously, you know how vigilant the Boise airport TSA agents are. But they always "pick me!" anyway.

Well, this has been quite a long post, but I was inspired by a childhood friend's new-to-me blog. The hail has stopped, my neighbor's basset hound is flopping in through the back door, and my last batch of cookies for the day has *ding!*ed. It's time for me to go.

Good night!