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Monday, January 23, 2017

Sisterhood of the Traveling Boot

Four girlfriends and I left North Dakota on a cold morning in January. I believe the temperature, with windchill, was -20. Our destination was sunny Florida. This long-awaited trip was planned by our good friend, Deb, as a birthday celebration, or perhaps I should say birthweek celebration. The only fly in the ointment was my boot. Because I was wearing it, we had to think through every step. It meant hoisting me into vans and cramming into backseats. It meant warning waiters and grabbing me before I fell. It even meant helping me into the shower (thank you Barb). Because we had to accommodate the boot every place we went, it took on a life of its own. Like at the beach. A scooter just doesn't work in the sand. So what did my friends do? They paid a couple of guys to carry me:



Debi, Michele and Deb...and the boot
There were other adventures as well, so allow me to share what my boot did on our winter vacation:
At Sea Life Aquarium
At Manny's for a birthday celebration (see the boot taking center stage?)

Lounging by the pool

Visiting with Abe at the Wax Museum
In the jaws of a gator

Riding high on the Orlando Eye 
Conducting business poolside


Waiting for breakfast


Greeting the gecko

Overcoming our fear of heights

Kicking back at the White House

Kicking it up with the Blue Brothers
The boot may have been a drag, but in the end it added to the fun. And because of it, and because of new and old friendships, this is one vacation I'll never forget. It gave a whole new meaning to "booting up."

Monday, January 9, 2017

Always Trust Your Cape

I saw this quote the other day: "What defines us is how well we rise after falling." I can relate to this. Since I've been on my scooter I have fallen over about a half a dozen times. Picture this: me, realizing I'm about the lose my balance, then hop-hop-hopping in an effort not to put my foot down.
I trust my balance to be there, as it always has been. Prior to wearing my boot I could close my eyes and stand on one foot for a minute at a time. The extra few pounds on one side seems to have thrown it all off. The 18 inches of snow on the ground has not helped, nor has the extreme cold or the fact that I live in a house with stairs at every turn, but still, no big thing.

Today was my third follow-up appointment, the day when I was to have the pins removed, lose the scooter and begin to use my foot. Alas,  today there will be no "cast off" party. For a moment I lapsed into a pity party instead, when the doctor told me there was a break where healing was supposed to be. Clearly, during one of those balance challenges I put a little too much pressure on my repaired foot. So, it's two more weeks on the scooter.

Mary Chapin Carpenter sings a song that talks about being fearless. Here's the chorus:

He's one of those who knows that life
Is just a leap of faith
Spread your arms and hold your breath
Always trust your cape


It seems I'm trusting my cape a little too much right now, so for the next two weeks I'll be good, and I'll sit quietly and I'll allow my foot to heal. But in every other way...I'm going to do my best to rise well after falling. 







Sunday, January 1, 2017

Songs From the Alley

My son and his wife live right in the middle of one of America's biggest cities, and it's a place I love to visit. Because it's downtown, their apartment is in an old building that is surrounded by the colorful; people who live on the streets or who live in various nearby shelters. At night, especially if you sleep with the windows open, you can hear the sounds of the alley two floors down. It's always fascinating to me.

There is the homeless man who lives on a cardboard island. During my last visit in the early fall, he rarely left his spot, but held court for those who wandered by. I admit to spying on him as he negotiated for the day's necessities. He would hand his cash over, some sort of deal was made, and the passerby would wander off to return an hour later, his pockets stuffed with sandwiches or fruit or milk - once a Starbucks coffee. My son told me that the individuals making the deals live a few doors down in a home for people who, for various reasons, can't live on their own. Their needs are met at the home, but the one thing they can't get there is cigarettes. Hence, the back-alley dealing.

Another couple entered the alley every morning at 4 a.m. like clockwork, to rummage through the dumpsters while bickering bitterly. They must have been devoted to each other because they were always together, but they didn't seem to like each other much.

Then there was the fellow they called The Puker. He was a man with apparent lung disease, one of the dealers for smokes, who, after he enjoyed his tobacco (or whatever), would follow it by hacking up a lung. It was loud and painful to hear. One night I awoke in the wee hours to that sound, followed by the voice of my son calling to The Puker from the window in the next room. "Hey, Dude! You can't do that here." Silence. Cough, cough, hack. Then, "I can still see you!" Silence. More hacking. Then, "Dude, I can still see you behind that dumpster!"

My son and his wife take it all in stride. It's all part of living downtown and they've made their peace with the inhabitants of their neighborhood. Last night, a new message appeared on my phone:
"Good news! The alley now has a piano for all passersby to bang on." I suspect it won't be there long, but he says it's amazing how all who walk through are compelled to try their hand. The melody of street life during a big city winter.