The last thing I want to see when I walk into a hospital is someone’s feet, and because I’m not a hypocrite (at least not 100% of the time) I make it a personal rule to never wear sandals into a hospital. Last week I was all Birkenstocked and headed to visit a doctor when I remembered that her office moved into a hospital. I had no time to turn around and throw on my Low Pros, so I was my own worst enemy for approximately 90 minutes. (Not that flip-floppers in a hospital are enemies of mine. They’re not. I don’t believe I really have any enemies in a hospital as long as employees are working together to keep hearts beating and everyone else is staying out of the way. Have I ever mentioned that I used to wear a stethoscope around my neck when I was an intensive care unit secretary? I’m despicable.) ((Disclaimer: Some hearts should not keep beating. A doctor’s success rate shouldn’t always rely on how many people he/she keeps alive.))
Two nights ago I had a dream during which I took six Vicodin and then started making phone calls to see if I could find someone to give me a lift to the emergency room. Sadly, everyone I called was too busy. Eventually, I realized that the game I was playing wasn’t a smart one. (Please know that if you needed a lift to the emergency room, I would try my hardest to get to you. My gas tank is (nearly) always at least half full.)
Last night I was responsible for Cher calling off her concert in the middle of a song just because I accidentally took a photo without turning off my flash. Everyone in the stadium was booing and throwing things at me.
(Every few months I go through a 2-3 week stint during which I feel expendable. It hits me so hard that I manage to drag it into the Land of Nod. (Biorhythms are real.)) ((Jeff bought some relaxation tea for me yesterday after I spiraled into a weirdo panic attack. I felt it again this morning, so I drove straight to Home Depot to stare at plants.))
I’ve been thinking a lot about edging for our front yard. Three houses in the subdivision went on the market last week and each one of them sold within two days. I think it’s time for our yard to put on a fancier skirt, which means we’ve been using words like Phlox and Lilac and Trustworthy Tree Trimming Guy.
Two days ago I ate the best blueberry streusel doughnut, and my Fitbit just flashed “Burn it, A-Dawg.” So many bright spots.
9 thoughts on “Three of your favorite topics: Feet, dreams, and yard stuff!”
Hmm…my wheels are spinning….what can I do to make Angie feel non-expendable?? :)
“I need some brownies RIGHT NOW!!!”
“Could you be my babysitter while I go have a margarita?”
“I simply cannot mop my floors. Are you any good at that?”
p.s. Just kidding on all of those accounts :)
No one is expendable. In some ways, that is the difficult truth in looking at the world’s problems. Because if any one (anyone) is expendable, then the problem doesn’t have to be solved.
But a more important truth can be found in the people around you. Could any one of them truthfully say that your presence does not impact them? The answer is that if even one of them says that your presence impacts them, then you are not expendable. So, by extension, the presence of us, your readers, defines you as inexpendable. We are here. We read your words. Therefore, you are not expendable.
Good job, Fitbit!!!!
And also, if I lived just down the street, I would come help you with your planting projects, and I would bring brownies & you could make the tea (iced for me, please — because planting can be sweaty work) and OMG, ^Kim’s comment (!) because didn’t you sometime in the not-too-distant past have a freaky encounter with a down-the-street neighbor (sadly, not me) <–(because obviously if it had been, it would *not* have been freaky!) with some sort of purportedly urgent child care emergency when, you being you, even though your kids were not especially pals with hers, stepped up & said "Of course I can help!" and then it turned out she just wanted to go off and have a Margarita with someone? If Kim remembered and was referencing that, then she wins (hands'down!) your "Most Observant Reader" award!!!
When I sometimes veer in the direction of feeling expendable I only have to look inside a few of my closets to realize that no one but me will ever be able to deal with that mess and it pulls me right back from the brink.
YMMV <–(and I recommend that they do!)
You are many things, but expendable is not one. Please know that you are important to so many. If smelling the flowers and enjoying the tea doesn’t help you enough, please seek professional assistance. There is help. It does get better. Remember that you are loved. You are special. You are irreplaceable.
I get it. We all do. Anyone who says that they don’t, has pants o’ fire.
I’m finally getting over the loss, helped through by HGTV and I am now bound and determined to paint our crappy 70’s wood paneled downstairs bright white… it will be done, oh yes it will.
I think the word you were looking for is “expandable” because that’s what donuts do to us.
See, at first I thought that really happened about you stopping a Cher concert. That’s how old I am. But I kept thinking you surely wouldn’t have just dropped that one in our laps and gone on to talk about landscaping and your success with the walking like the Cher thing was just no big deal. So I went back and read the whole thing over. Twice.
I’m really glad that your walking endeavors are going so well. Back when you were continuously harming yourself with attempts to become a runner, I was so hoping you would find that walking is what’s right for you.
And Birkenstocks really shouldn’t be regarded as bare naked footwear. They are so much more.
I was kicking myself thinking I had missed Cher in St. Louis. And then I realized. Glad you didn’t stop the show. The flash reflection off of all of that Bob Mackie may pose a health risk.
Birkenstocks are not the same as sandals or flip flops! They are heavenly!! *hugs*
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