Scars and Stars

Short weeks always mess me up. I had a great weekend and saw friends each day. I finally saw The Descendants, which almost made up for the disaster which was The Tree of Life. I went out for coffee. I crutched to brunch. I had lunch. I read five back issues of the Sunday New York Times. Every weekend should be a three-day weekend (back when I worked at eCollege, every four or five weeks each of the helpdesk gurus had to rotate to work a weekend shift, so we’d work 10 days straight. But at the end of those 10 days, we got Thursday and Friday off. A magical four-day weekend! It was fantastic. We also got paid $25 every time someone called us outside of normal working hours. Man, that was the good life. I would pray for the servers to go down when I was on call so I’d get a ton of calls to answer. It’s amazing that we stayed solvent. Though, as you might guess, one of the keys to solvency was finding a better solution for the helpdesk than the aforementioned! Ok, now goodbye, memory lane, that was fun.)

Anyway. Three-day weekends always make for a rough return to the work week, because you’ve just gotten used to being off. (Having been out of the office for four weeks straight, I realize I should probably refrain from complaining about my exhausting five-day workweek of yore.) Anyway. The rest of a short week I am always confused, because it’s Wednesday/Fake Tuesday/Ash Wednesday and your mind is convinced that it’s Thursday. But you need to do a full week of work. Etc. That made me so tired I’m working at home tomorrow.

Tuesday I got craaazy at PT and did 12 minutes on the bike. Then I got to do some hip exercises with weights strapped on my ankle, since my right hip is getting weak from all the not-being-used. (My hamstrings, on the other hand, are strong strong strong from holding up my leg.) (can someone please tell me if the period goes on the inside or the outside of the parentheses? What is the rule???) I also found out that Jill the Amazing PT-lady reads the blog, as she knew to expect the banana bread (good thing I remembered to bake it), which she shared generously with the rest of the staff (Hi Jill!). Most excitingly, I got schooled on how to walk properly with one crutch. Unsurprisingly, I had been doing it incorrectly. Now I’m one-crutching around my apartment, or anytime I want to show off. Or pretend I am Mr. Bates.

(I sure do love parentheses.)

TODAY I went to the gym at work and rode 3.87 miles on the bike in 18 minutes. It was still Level 1 resistance, but I got up to 78 RPMs on an ideal of 90! The “real” exercise bike is actually easier to navigate and use than the recumbent, though I have to pull myself up on it with my arms, like I’m hopping out of a pool. Not that I’ve been in one of those since March 2011. I really want to get on the spin bike, but Ye Old Scabby Ankle is still unable to fit into a running shoe, let alone a clipless pedal cycling shoe. I forgot my phone, so I couldn’t take a picture. But I did it. Then I did some sit ups and bicep curls and the lat pulldown machine and some Pilates moves. It was fun times. I still didn’t really sweat, but it is fun to change into gym clothes.

I also weighed myself, which is something I generally avoid doing very often for reasons much too deep and complicated to get into on My Fun and Carefree Blog. But I was curious, and I don’t have a scale at home (never have, never will). I was surprised to find I have lost quite a bit of weight, down to about Ironman USA 2006 levels. I will generally attribute this to LOSING ALL MY MUSCLES. Let’s not even talk about how sad my cardio skills are going to be when I am allowed to do Actual Exercise. However, I will admit that I like that I can see my Mrs. Obama-esque (not quite, but trying) arm muscles. If I have a good hair day I’ll take a picture.

I am missing, missing, missing my pup this week. Instead of living with Fantabulous CoWorker, I’ve been in my own apartment (and though I sincerely miss her Heavenly/Westin-like Guest Bed, I do also like being in my apartment, but she is crazy awesome to still be ferrying me back and forth to work!), so it’s all the more noticeable that Turkey’s gone. I am getting regular updates and she seems to be enjoying the snowtime and former cat boyfriend interactions she’s having. Her eye is healing well, though she’s stuck in the cone until at least next Monday, making that three weeks in her cone to my six weeks on crutches.

Turkey's windshield is very dirty

Fortunately, it snowed about 6 inches at my parents’, so my dad was able to put her to work with a little snow-shoveling, which conveniently also cleaned off her windshield.

Shoveling is hard work

Wait, one more thing. Want to see some progress??? Check this bad boy out. THIS is 5 1/2 weeks post-op, following instructions all the way.

Lookin' Good, right?!

Why does this keep happening? (guest post)

Did y’all miss me? My mom went back to DC on her birthday, and I stayed behind in the vacation house, err…Nana and Grandpa’s house. When my mom left I thought I was just going for a ride in the Jeep (I know, I know, it was the Vehicle of Deception, but after a few good rides, I had decided it might be ok again). Nope. Grandpa put me in the Jeep and I watched as Nana drove my mom’s car away – with my mom in it! Tricked again. When will I learn? Grandpa took me for a ride and then we went for a walk.

I was kind of lonely without my mom and Nana, but I heard my mom went kind of cra-cra when she went back home, cause she was really sad about having to leave me, and about having another month on crutches, and about getting old. Staying with Grandpa, though, was awesome, ’cause he fed me stuff and he put my bed in his room!

I kept trying to scratch the stitches on my back. Even though I had the cone on, I could still kind of reach it, so I would lick the spot and scratch it whenever I could. My mom read something stupid on the internet that said you could put a t-shirt on your dog and help stop them from scratching, so when Nana came home from getting rid of my mom in DC, she had my Halloween costume with her. And then she put it on my butt.

Yes, I have Carolina on my butt.

Wednesday I went on a field trip. I thought maybe we would do something fun like go swimming or go see wildlife, like we did last summer, but noooooooooooo.  Grandpa took me to this place called Elkton and we walked around and around in circles (actually the old guy said they were ovals, but you get the idea).  At least it was sunny and warm. And they didn’t make me wear the embarrassing t-shirt outside.

On Thursday we went BACK in the Jeep/VOD AGAIN. Really, I don’t know what to think at this point. We drove into town and went back to the scary terrible place. Dr. John made like he was going to help me, and I was really, really glad. Because for the past week, one of the stitches has been up UNDER MY EYELID scratching my eye. It hurt a whole lot. I kept trying to scratch it, but every time I did, I would hear “Turkey, NO!” and I would have to stop. Sometimes I really wish I could talk.

As Dr. John was looking at my eyeball, I pulled back to get away from him, which made his hand slip. My eye sort of broke open and started bleeding again. Ugh. So they told Grandpa he should come back in an hour. I got put back in one of those stupid cages, and then they gave me a shot to make me verrry sleeepy.

Why oh why oh why oh why???

When I woke up I could barely see anything. AGAIN. They had put more stitches into my eye, so it would heal. If it doesn’t scratch my eyeball up like last time then I guess I won’t bother it, either. I did get a fancy new cone, which is bigger and also easier to see out of because it is clear. Also, since I can’t reach my back anymore, they took off that stupid t-shirt for good.

Lookin' like Popeye

While we were there, Dr. John gave Grandpa a report on the lump they took out when they sawed me open. The report said that the lump was “chronic fat necrosis with granulomatous inflammation, lymphoid nodules, and fibrosis.” The only word I understand in there is “fat” – which is what Nana and my mom say I am getting. The rest said “All three pieces of tissue are similar in microscopic appearance.  There is no evidence of malignancy or infection.  This could be a lipoma with ischemia and necrosis and resultant inflammation.” Still don’t know what all THAT means, but I hear they are now super sure I don’t have cancer, so hooray!

Grandpa and Nana keep brushing my teeth. Something about “not ruining your newly cleaned teeth” too soon. But it’s poultry flavor toothpaste, and I love that, so it’s ok. I wish I could just eat the toothpaste and not have them shove fingers into my mouth.

Last night I heard Grandpa talking on the phone to my mom and asking her about how it was going at work. She said that on Thursday at PT she got to put 75% of weight on her foot. She also got to ride the exercise bike for 5 minutes and listen to the soundtrack from Footloose. But she also almost got run over by a Metrobus who was too impatient for her to cross the street in the pouring rain, and she was pretty mad about that. (She was also mad that it’s impossible to carry an umbrella when you have to crutch someplace in the rain.) She has a lot of crazy expectations.

Today Nana cleaned out my windshield. I can see a lot better.

Ok, I have a couch to sleep on. See you later.

They don't even try to stop me, so why should I stop!?!

10:11

What is 10:11? How many hours (or minutes) I slept last night (sadly, no…and thankfully I slept more minutes than that). How many minutes it takes me to walk down the long hallway in the office? (no, I am much faster than that, unless I am walking the PT-prescribed way). Nope, 10:11 is how many minutes I pedaled on the exercise bike today!!!

Obv that is 1.37 miles, not 137 miles. At this rate it would take me 18.66 hours just to do the bike portion of an Ironman!

On Monday Dr. Awesome Doc gave me permission to try riding the bike (he also said to “try putting your foot into a running shoe,” which I did Monday night. Uh, hey Cinderella. We appear to be a week ++ away from the two-running shoe look.)  So today I ambled down to the gym in our building, and set myself up. Actually, I’d considered not even changing, as I knew there was no way I’d get sweaty. It took me longer to get to the gym and back than it did to ride. The first minute or so I was really nervous, but I pedaled slowly on Resistance Level 1, and it was fine. (Because I was going so slowly, the bike kept stopping and pausing, but that’s another story.) I was running late for a meeting so I pedaled my 10 minutes, did 2 sets of situps and some Pilates moves, and went back upstairs. Exciting day!

Yesterday was MORE exciting because I got to go to Physical Therapy for the first time. Though the PT place is only two blocks away from my office, I left plenty of time to crutch over.

I LOVED my therapist, Jill. She loved that I knew all the dates of prior surgeries, and that I actually knew stuff about my body. Woo! She also asked what my goals were. Um: walk again? Not good enough. I will be going to PT until I can run 15 miles, because she wants to see what I am like the day AFTER I run 15 miles. So, Jill and I are gonna be buds for the long haul, which means she’s getting banana bread next week.

Sample exercises from PT: put bad foot on floor. Put some weight on bad foot. Stand there, shifting weight from bad foot to good for three minutes. Also: rotate ankle in circle. Then go other way. I also got to crutch across the room, putting foot entirely on the floor like normal person, but only using 50% of weight. This makes me really, really slow. I may not have broken a sweat, but I did wear my 140.6 shirt so they’d know who they were dealing with..when I first wore this shirt I did EIGHT HOURS AND TWENTY-ONE MINUTES of exercise in ONE DAY. (oh, yes, I have something to prove. But there was a big toothpaste stain on the shirt, so I didn’t prove myself to be much more than a vain idiot whose identity is wrapped up in athletics.)

My quads no longer look like this.

I’ll be going to PT twice a week for now, and fortunately my work is awesome so I can go during the workday.

The return to work has not been as traumatic as I feared; in fact, I’m loving “having” to see different colleagues multiple times a day as people help me get my oatmeal, or coffee, or water. The most fun happened this afternoon, when a senior colleague (Duke alumna who knows where the fun is) offered to push me around the office in a wheelie chair. Didn’t have to ask me that twice. Our CEO happened to be walking around with Paul Volcker (if you don’t know who he is, go look him up. I’m not even going to link it for you. Ever heard of the Volcker Rule? That’s him.), so when we realized we might run into them…we stopped, and she returned me to my office.

Just in time for the senior Mr. Volcker to stop into the office I share and ask if “this is where they keep all the cripples.” Haha. Yessirrr! It was a pleasure and thrill to meet him.

Turkey has been having fun without me at “Gramps Camp.” Today she went hiking and tomorrow…the stitches come out. And hopefully with it, the cone.

Back to the grind!

So yesterday was my birthday and I celebrated being an adult for the 20th time. The depth of my age really hit home when one of our fellows’ (intern/slave labor) birthdays was announced at our staff meeting this morning, and I realized I am precisely TWICE AS OLD as he is. Literally, I have lived my life twice. (Whenever I feel old I do like recounting a story which happened to me the first weekend of business school. A girl asked when I’d graduated from Wellesley, and I answered, “1996.” She replied, “No, no, no. What year did you graduate from COLLEGE.” Um….1996. It took a few minutes for her to regain her composure, and my ego was made for the weekend. Thank you, sunscreen!)

On Saturday my mom and I ran some errands, and picked up the ingredients for my birthday dinner. We thought about buying a cake at the Mennonite farmer’s market, but I was adamant I wanted to make my own. We had an iced sugar cookie from the farmer’s market for lunch, which briefly made me rethink this idea (btw, iced sugar cookie is NOT candy. Also not highly appropriate lunch. See: Sunday migraine). But I don’t like to do anything the easy way.

I thought I had all of the ingredients to make Smitten Kitchen’s red velvet cake which, technically, I did. Then I looked at the side of the box of unopened cake flour.

(I am going to get into trouble for what I say next. Mom I love you a lot!!!!!! Lot Lot Lot! Mwah!)

Do you notice anything about this picture?

Look again. Real close. Now do you?

Precisely. The cake flour was purchased 1) while I was still in college, 2) Bill Clinton was in his first term, 3) Monica Lewinsky hadn’t yet happened, and 4) my parents lived in a different house.

(Did I mention HOW MUCH I love you, Mom????)

So off my dad went to the store (10-15 minute drive to closest store), missing the audio broadcast of the last hour of some screaming six-hour long Wagner opera he loves and has heard 700 times, all to buy me some new cake flour.

When he didn’t come back after 45 minutes, we started to get worried, so I called his cell phone. Which was on the counter next to me. Which is not helpful at all.

After an hour he returned; he’d listened to the rest of the opera in his car.

As I tried not to stain the stone countertop red (seriously, I love Smitten Kitchen, but SIX tablespoons of red food coloring? Oh the red dye #40!), my mom made me a childhood favorite, ham and cheese crepes, for my birthday eve dinner. This is real slave labor, as it takes about four hours to make them from start to finish. They are delish and I don’t think I’ve had them since 1985. I decided I didn’t have it in me to make a three-layer cake, so I made red velvet cupcakes instead. 33 of them, in fact.

After a delicious dinner of said crepes, brussels sprouts with garlic, broccoli, and wine (we know how to roll), we had cupcakes with candles. Then we sat down to watch my movie of choice, the Oscar-nominated “Tree of Life.”

The dying-clown candle is from my older brother's 7th birthday, or approximately 16 years older than the cake flour. It is used in every birthday permutation possible.

If you have watched this movie (Brad Pitt! Sean Penn! Jessica Chastain from the Help! Alluring, right?), you can empathize. If you have not watched it, under no circumstances should you. Save yourself! Run screaming from anyone who suggests it might be a good idea. Let’s put it this way: the Redbox dvd was damaged and skipped THIRTY MINUTES of the movie. And it didn’t matter. My theory is it’s Oscar-nominated because no one in the Academy got it either. Since they didn’t get it they felt it must be important, so they checked the box.

On my birthday, I awoke with my first migraine in 30 days (way to jinx yourself, Maureen). My mom generously agreed to make me pancakes, and after a deep discussion about whether or not chocolate chips counted as candy, she dumped some in the batter. (For the record they are “ingredients” and not candy. There was no wrapper!)

Nearly FIVE POUNDS of Not Candy

We packed up all my stuff and drove back to DC. The headache left me feeling queasy – WHY ALL THE CARSICKNESS?! You know what cures carsickness? Combos. Cheese-filled combos really cheeses your hunger away.

There was a dinosaur on the way. Yay, dinorsaurs in rural Virginia. Yay Combos more!

Also hadn’t had those since 1985. I think 1985 was a good year.

We arrived back in my apartment to a giant pile of (more) trashy magazines, birthday cards, sparkly bracelets, and Turkey-themed valentines. And my favorite get-well card of all time, addressed to Turkey, from Marisa’s kiddos Miss J and Mr. T. If I’d been thinking of my blog, which I wasn’t, I’d have taken a photo of said card, but alas, I’ve sent it back to my parents for Turkey to “read.”

All set back in my apartment? I proceeded to have a gigantic meltdown, oh wait, make that TWO gigantic meltdowns, about going back to work, about not being able to do anything independently, and about only being 1/2 way through my crutch confines. AND MY STEAMER BROKE, which really sent me over the edge (if you don’t have a steamer, you should. You will look fresh-pressed every day!) I may or may not have thrown my crutches down the hallway. There was a brief intermission of hissy fits to watch Downton Abbey (good prioritization). Way to act your age, Mo!

After my mother peeled my sobbing self off the bathroom floor, I finally went to bed, distraught at the idea of wearing wrinkled clothes to work. (You think I am making this up. I am not making this up. I wish I were making this up as it is more embarrassing to recount than it was to live through.)

This morning I headed back to Dr. Awesome Doc for my first visit in three weeks. We were so happy to find street parking; last time we were robbed $13 for 1/2 hour in the garage (I mentioned this to the office assistant, and she said “We know! We all read your blog! Yeah!)

He peeled off the rest of the steri-strips, and this is what we found.

Don’t mind the patch where I scraped my itching skin raw while watching The Tree of Life. It itched. Also don’t mind the hideous dry skin, my still-swollen foot/calf, and my 13-year old fasciotomy scar. He was pleased with the progress (and my still amazingly in tact 5-week old pedicure). I left the office with a prescription for Physical Therapy (hooray!) 2-3 times a week for 4-6 weeks, which I will start tomorrow. I’m allowed to put partial weight on the foot, like putting it flat while I am standing in place.

The re-entry to the working world wasn’t as bad as I feared; for one, I get to split the sherpa-ing duties many different ways across many colleagues. Also I brought cupcakes to bribe them, which I think went a long way.

And I ordered a new steamer.

Recap: 29 days gone

On Monday I will go back to the office, so while I’ll still be on crutches for another FOUR weeks (halfway there!), I probably won’t have as much to say. Or have time to be able to say it. I desperately hope, however, that my rendezvous with physical therapy will still begin next week as previously promised by Dr. Awesome Doc. Because I’ll still be crutched, and because I have no desire to deal with inhospitable Metro (“elevator out December-March”) and the largely irritating and self-centered people who ride it during commuting hours, I will be living with my awesome fantabulous coworker friend who drives to work. Thank you a bazillion times in advance, Erika. Miss Turkey will remain home with the “grandparents” til I am mobile again.

As my convalescence comes to an end I wanted to capture everything I’ve done. And by done I mean watched, since precisely ZERO/NONE of my “plans” actually came to pass. BUT. You know what? I think I still did a lot.

I watched an obscene amount of movies, and tv.

• Running the Sahara – Documentary. Watch crazy people run across Sahara Desert
• Frances – 1983 Academy Award for Jessica Lange. I turned off after 15 min.
• Ides of March – Helloooo, Ryan Gosling.  You are lovely. So are you, George Clooney. Well done!
• I Don’t Know How She Does It – save yourself the gas and effort it takes to drive to Redbox, the $1.05 rental, and the $1.05 second night fee because you didn’t bother to watch it the first night.
• Moneyball – Helloooo, Brad Pitt! How did I live across the Bay when this was happening and have zero clue it occurred? I even read the newspaper!
• Friends with Benefits – eh. I do like Justin Timberlake.
• The Adjustment Bureau – super good, and a little wacky.
• 21 Grams – excellent. I thought it was about drugs. It’s not. Sean Penn, Naomi Watts and Benecio del Toro.
• 50/50 – really good. Very sad in parts, but I knew it ended well since the screenwriter is the guy the movie’s about.
• Mrs. Doubtfire – Love me some Robin Williams. And scenes of San Francisco.
• See How they Run – Documentary about SF mayoral race of 1999.
• Running America – Documentary by same filmmakers as Running the Sahara. Dudes run across America. Nuts. Read the book “Running on Empty” by Marshall Ulrich at the same time (Marshall is one of the crazies).
• Recount – Want to relive what happened in Florida during the 2000 election? Neither did I. It hurt me.
• Contagion – Watched while being hermit (good). Watched while had bronchitis (very bad). Everyone dies.
• Downton Abbey – Season 1 (7 episodes) – HOW DID I NOT KNOW ABOUT THIS BEFORE??!
• Downton Abbey – Season 2 (5 episodes – caught up to real time!) – I don’t like being caught up, though it does save me from staying up til 2 a.m.
• Persuasion – attempted to fill love for Downton Abbey. Didn’t love it.
• Rabbit-Proof Fence – Australian outback
• Paper Clips – Documentary. Kids in rural Tennessee collect 6 million paperclips to represent number of Jewish people killed in Holocaust.
• The China Syndrome – late 70s nuclear meltdown! For the entire movie I kept thinking this one guy reminded me of Wilfred Brimley. Yeah, cause it was Wilfred Brimley! Also Michael Douglas, Jane Fonda and Jack Lemmon, but I knew those guys.
• 22+ episodes of Friends. Don’t judge me.
• 15 episodes of Ellen. Highlight: getting my dad to watch. (“When does she dance?”) Second highlight: pushups with FLOTUS. Third highlight: Kristen Bell sloth meltdown.
• 6 episodes of Modern Family
• 6 episodes of Up all Night
• Embarrassing number of Law & Order: SVU.
• 0 episdoes of Anderson. I love me some Anderson Cooper, but it was pretty trashy (If I admit it is trashy it means it is REALLY, REALLY bad). I did see the internet clip of him freaking out over Fonzie being a surprise guest star on his show, and that was awesome.
• Which leads me to….4 episodes of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. I couldn’t watch part 2 of the reunion. It really horrified me, so I turned it off. So really, I guess I watched 3 episodes. I especially enjoyed my dad’s commentary as a newbie trying to watch/shield his eyes from the show. It definitely opened my eyes to how bad it is (still…I can’t wait for the new season of Bethenny!)
• 5 episodes of How I Met Your Mother. I have a problematic-level crush on Jason Segel, mostly because of his obsession with all-things-Muppet. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about this show. I also enjoy this FB meme from Barney.

I read a lot, too. Ok, maybe not “a lot.” I read 3 books (out of possible 22, oops): the aforementioned Running on Empty by Marshall Ulrich, Why is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns) by Mindy Kaling, and Chopping Spree by Diane Mott Davidson (Goldy the caterer culinary mysteries!). I’m midway through Long Way Gone by Ishmael Baeh. It is really good.

I read many more magazines:

• 15 issues of Yoga Journal (all of 2011, plus a few stragglers from 2010 and Feb 2012. Seem to have lost Jan 2012). But I found a $3 coupon for Zevia, my expensive not-soft-drink soft drink available at Whole Foods, in one of the issues!
• 5 issues of Wellesley magazine, and one issue of Duke magazine
• The Fuqua newsletter. Amongst a zillion baby and wedding announcements, the Best. Entry. Ever: “Adam is excited to announce a new addition to his life:  “This summer I bought a 60-inch 1080p 3D THX certified Plasma HDTV with Smart TV and TruBlack Filter that I am in love with.  Along with it I got a 3D Blu-ray wireless Home Theater System and DVD player with Smart TV and Integrated Wi-Fi as well as a TiVo Premiere XL.” 
• 5 issues of Real Simple. They should call it Real Ads. I read 4 from 2009 (in my bedroom at my parents’) and 1 gifted to me from my work buds Kelly and Caitlin.
• 3 issues of Shape, circa 2009. Also in bedroom at parents’. Now in thrift store donation pile.
• Super-low-brow celebrity mags: Ok! and Life & Style gifted from Melissa, and weekly delivery of USWeekly (it was a Groupon…gets me every time)
• Several more “high-brow” celebrity mags (4 issues of Entertainment Weekly…it also arrives, you know, WEEKLY, and 1 issue of People gifted from office-mate Sam)

I revived the blog and got my writer on. I wrote 25 blog posts in 30 days. Not one of them included details of an Ironman workout, even though this is how the blog originated, way back in 2003. It’s been yeeeeeears. I did sign up to volunteer for the Ironman U.S. championships in NYC in August (where those fools will have to swim in the Hudson River, bike in New Jersey, and run around in supreme humidity in NYC. For $1,000 entry fee. I don’t think so. Instead I will get a tshirt and pat many good-looking men on the back.)

I watched as aforementioned blog received over 2,600 visits!! (And it wasn’t me sitting here pressing “refresh,” promise.) I don’t know how this compares to anything, like my fave fit bloggers Ali on the Run and Dr. Awesome Doc-covert referrer Sweaty Emily, but without anything to compare it to, it seemed good to me. The highest day was January 13, surgery day, with 531 visits. That was so high I thought it was probably an error. The day I got sponsored was my second-highest, with 156 (sadly it’s been so warm I haven’t gotten to wear the jacket yet!).

While I was abandoned for 10 days, and even when I was at my parents’, I cooked and baked a few times. I made my first-ever baked-from-scratch whole wheat rolls. I made mint brownies from an old recipe of my mom’s. Apparently they do not taste great without frosting on them. I should have made Frugal Girl brownies, which I have made many times and love, and added mint. I also made banana bread for Wanda the Surgical Coordinator, strawberry crisp, red pepper and chard quiche, roasted brussels sprouts (x2), and roasted broccoli with sriracha sauce.

Many friends and my amazing dogwalker Barb came to help me out, bringing smiles, pans of lasagna, dosas, hummus, beer, wine and bagels. They also brought a willingness to take out my trash, walk Turkey, and walk me to Starbucks.

I tried real Pilates for the second time ever in my life at a gym. It was hard. I ordered Pilates DVDs and did them approximately once.

I stalked Facebook like nobody’s business.

I worked 60 hours (over 11 days, don’t feel bad).

I wrote appx 1100 personal emails (I hope that’s wrong. That scares me.)

I played 87 games of Words with Friends. (I have no idea. I just made that up. But especially when I had bronchitis and couldn’t sleep, I played a lot.)

I obsessed over Solha the Afghani dog Turkey look-alike, and cheered when she began her multi-step journey to Virginia. Hi, Solha!

Borrowed from Jessie's blog, Rurally Screwed

I did my taxes. Oh wait, no I didn’t. Walgreens messed up again so I still can’t do them. I am READY TO PRESS SUBMIT the second that Walgreens fixes the problem. Which should be on or around April 14.

I got tickets to Madonna for September with 4 friends (Katie, Nikki, Chrissy and Jen…middle-aged ladies unite!). I had to join the Madonna fan club to do so, but that’ s ok.

I watched my poor baby have surgery (actually I didn’t WATCH the surgery, I went and ate bagels at Mr. J’s. They would’ve let me watch, but no way I could have beared (born?) to do so).

I tested 5 wheelie carts and decided Trader Joe’s was the best. Walmart was the runner-up. I never did try Whole Foods, even though I had the opportunity earlier this week.

I got puppy flowers!

PUPPY!!!!

I remembered my friend Ray on the second anniversary of his death from melanoma, and I remembered my aunt Betsy on what should have been her 58th birthday.

RayRay Summer 2009

Betsy after Boston 2008

I didn’t buy anything from late-night TV, and I didn’t get addicted to Vicodin. I didn’t have a single migraine!

I tried really hard to clean up my trucker-language and behave like a lady.

I did 100 pushups. They were girl pushups, but that’s only because I’m forbidden to do boy pushups like FLOTUS, Ellen, and Jimmy Fallon can do. Tonight I’m gonna do 150. I promise.

I DIDN’T EAT ANY CANDY. I will, however, eat birthday cake. My mom’s been bugging me to ask what kind of cake I want. Perhaps I will make my own.

Didn’t know it was my birthday? It’s not yet. It is Sunday, just in time for me to go back to the office with leftover cake. Me, Darwin, Honest Abe, Arsenio Hall, Emily Valentine, and Judy Blume. And Mrs. Seaver from Growing Pains.

I hide my birthday on Spacebook so 722 people don’t write on my wall. I also usually get all cranky and bummed out around my birthday, and that’s a surefire way to avoid it. Last year I did a little experiment and hid it to see if anyone would remember without it (they didn’t). To be totally fair several people emailed me and said they didn’t know if me hiding meant I didn’t want a public wall greeting (That’s you, Sherri Shaffer Howe!), and the closest of the close called me. And I was with my brother, his now-wife, and my good friend Ilse in NYC, and they all knew. Still, the NYT validated my theory of fake Facebook wishes a few months later.

This year I’m not as cranky and bummed out. (Because I haven’t been in the office for a month?) (Just kidding. I like my job and I have fantastic coworkers. See: one who lets this crutch girl come live with her. And we have a Keurig!) I don’t know why I’m not AS bummed, but I’ll take it. Or maybe I’ll get all bummed tomorrow. There’s still time.

Anyway. I guess I did a lot. I promise there’s more to come. Thanks for reading.

Crutch and Cone Capades

Poor, poor Miss Turkey. Tuesday night was ruff!!! Around midnight I left her alone for no more than 2 minutes, and suddenly heard an excruciating yelp; she’d tried like heck (look at me, Dad!) to get out of the cone, and had actually almost succeeded. She broke off one of the fasteners, and had stuck her paw in between the cone and her collar. She was also stuck in a corner (nobody puts Baby in a corner!). My mom and I re-fastened the cone, and then lifted Turkey into my bed.

I spent most of night awake; every hour or so I’d hear a low moan and I kept trying to comfort her. I have never heard her make such sad noises. Poor gal. It broke my heart to know she was in pain.

After working most of the day Wednesday I joined my mom to drive over the mountain to Charlottesville for an appointment. While there, I got to see my good bud Ryan (she of the hip surgery). Here we are in the “health” aisle of Whole Foods. (BTW, this is the most awesome WF I’ve ever been in….even the Columbus Circle store can’t compare, because that one is large and scary and has escalators. And celebrities, though I never saw any. This store is spacious and friendly and the checkers are nice.) They did have wheelie carts, but I gotta tell ya’…at nearly 4 weeks on crutches, the wheelie carts have lost their appeal.

Wellesley meets Whole Foods

The downside was that my lack of sleep from the night before made me feel not-so-good. Add in me getting carsick, and a mountain pass, and I wanted to curl up and cry. Things did not improve once we got back to my parents’.

You know how bad I felt? I went upstairs to GO TO BED at halftime of the Duke/UNC game. That game? My dad felt compelled to come upstairs and re-enact the last minutes of it. I will probably have my Duke alumni card (which I don’t have, but go with me here) revoked. But hey, Austin Rivers? Welcome to the stuff of legends!!!

I am not cursing. This is a well-known saying for the Tobacco Road Rivalry and was Turkey's Halloween costume. No one in NoVa appreciated it.

Turkey is doing better and has actually managed to tackle the stairs. On Tuesday, she could only do them one at a time (in fact, I was faster than she was). Yesterday she was more confident, and this morning I heard her run down the stairs.

This is too tiring

She still isn’t loving the cone, but she’s managing. She’s even managed to hold on to her Kong and try to eat a bone. She’s also overcome her fear of the Vehicle of Deception.

Today I spent the day working again at my favorite coffee’/lunch/art shop (my parents’ internet is not super-reliable)(either that or it “isn’t super reliable” as a way to get me out of the house). Today they were actually pretty busy, so I needed to give up my usual plush chair in the back to accommodate a large party of 18 for lunch. No sooner had I relocated to the front room then I was BROUGHT A RECLINER by the owner. For reals. She went and got it from a different spot “so I would be comfortable and be able to elevate my leg.”

I am pretty sad that my return to the office on Monday will require me to stop wearing my de rigueur outfit of yoga pants and sweatshirt. I might also have to wash my hair. The sexy surgical shoe and running shoe, however, will remain til I am off the crutches.

Finally, I did 100 pushups. Just once, today*. I was inspired by watching Jimmy Fallon’s Tuesday night multisport athletic race against Mrs. Obama (and as we already know, FLOTUS is a rockstar). I was also excited to see the Walgreens Cashier get in on the action. If you haven’t already seen it, it’s worth a look. (NBC won’t let me embed the footage here, so you must click).

* I totally wrote this post without doing any pushups. But I will do them, I promise. Really. Just as soon as I watch the DVR of Monday night’s RHOBH finale that I forgot to watch live.

While I was Sleeping

(today’s post is guest-authored by none other than Miss Turkey)*

Dude. Let me just tell you. This has been a heck of a day. I went to bed early last night (shoulda’ been my first clue). My mama didn’t even remember to watch Real Housewives, and it was part 2 of the reunion special! I remembered it was on, but I didn’t say anything. I don’t really see what she sees in that smut, anyway. They all drink too much and are mean to one another! I prefer “Ellen,” which is in the afternoons. Anyway. I am getting off the subject.

We got up super early this morning, and I was confused about going on a walk in the dark, but then hey! A ride in Grandpa’s Jeep! I love riding in the Jeep. When I was here in the summer the Jeep was the “camp bus.” I am not sure why it was called that but everyone thought it was funny.

So, we rode into town, my Grandpa, my mama, and me. Then we went to this place we went a few weeks ago. They have CATS, right there on the floor in a cage! You can adopt the cats, like how I got adopted, and go home with a forever family. I stuck my nose in, but the one who played with me before had been adopted.

This nice lady Stephanie, who I met before, tried to take me away, but I dug in my heels because I didn’t want to go. I suddenly realized I had been seriously, seriously duped. Mama and Grandpa took off, saying something like “maybe if she can’t see us, she’ll go back.” Do they think I don’t have ears? Seriously. They’re always getting cleaned. That means I can HEAR WELL.

Stephanie and Dr. John had been feeling all around my legs, looking for the lumps. I wasn’t about to tell them that the lumps were not on my leg, but ON MY BACK. But then I heard Stephanie call my mom to ask, and next thing I knew my mom was back in the office, joking about drawing on me with a Sharpie. I don’t know why they thought that was so funny. Sharpies are permanent. I am blonde. That is not funny. I cried and wiggled a whole lot, but they still made me stay, and off my mom and Grandpa went again. I just know they were going to that Mr. J’s bagels to have breakfast, too. Darn them! I love bagels! Sometimes there is bacon, too. I like bacon almost as much as I like pepperoni.

I don’t remember too much of what happened next. The took some blood to make sure I was all healthy, and then they stuck me with an IV and I felt verrrrry sleeeepy. I put my head down and off to sleep I went.

When I woke up I felt like a mess! I felt like I had a hole cut in my right side. Then I looked down, and do you know what? There was a big hole cut into my right side! What up, people? This is not what I signed up for. I thought I was just going for a ride in the Jeep!

Here's my wound. The people took a photo when we got home.

As I was looking down at the hole, I noticed that I was having a really hard time seeing out of my right eye. Fortunately I am really handy with my paws (heh) so I started batting at my eyeball trying to scratch it. I can do that with no problem. The itch was scratched, but I still had a hard time seeing.

I did notice that my breath smelled a lot less funky, and so I wondered whether they had cleaned my teeth. That’s something.

I kept falling over, but I am a warrior so I kept standing right back up. After a bit, Stephanie came to take me out of the kennel, and put on my collar…and as we started walking out front, I could hear my mom! I yelped and gobbled for joy.

As soon as I got out there, I rolled right over. Apparently I wasn’t supposed to do this, as everyone started trying to get me to sit up (Why do the rules keep changing? Why?!). Apparently there was “blood on the floor” and I guess it came from me. As if that was a bad thing. I’m not the one who made me get all bloody, ok? I mean it’s one thing if I got into a fight.  All I did was go for a walk, take a ride in the Jeep, and the rest was out of my hands. Paws.

I guess my roll and my teeth loosened the stitches, cause we had to wait a bit for Dr. Vicky to come in and take a look at them. Dr. John had wisely peaced out and gone home.

While we waited, my stupid mom noticed that my stupid nails hadn’t been cut while I was “asleep.” Argh. I’d been hoping she wouldn’t notice. She came back into the back with me and the two Stephanies (the blonde one is Dr. John’s daughter and my mom has known her since she was a baby. My mom WOULD NOT SHUT UP about how she used to work here. Yeah, yeah, mom, we get it. You worked here like 20 years ago. Let it go.). They attacked me with the stupid clippers and cut my stupid nails. I whined a whole lot to punish all three of them.

I was sure happy to see Grandpa. My mom settled up the bill (something about “depleting the Turkey Emergency Fund/ there goes my trip to London”)(but you know what, before she said that I heard her bragging that she “bought tickets to see Madonna in September” so I am not feeling all that bad for her) and Grandpa took me to pee.

Back into the Vehicle of Deception (formerly known as the Jeep) we went. I thought we’d head right home but OH NO. Apparently there had not been enough humiliation for one day.

We stopped at “PetSmart,” where usually I am allowed inside. They give me treats! Mom crutched on in; I thought surely she was getting me a surprise for being so good. She came out with a bag. Guess maybe the treat is for home? I put my head in her lap and snoozed for the 30 minute drive back to Nana and Grandpa’s.

We got there and I thought this charade would finally be over. Oh, nooooo. They corralled me into a downstairs room, and in came Nana with a pair of scissors. Ok, I heard my mom talking about how Nana stabbed her with a pair of scissors the other night, so it would be an understatement to say that I was not too stoked about this development.

I went to my natural defense, and laid down. Mom whipped out this big roll of purple tape, and tried to wrap it around me, like I was a Christmas tree or something. What’s up with that. I cried a few times to let them know I was displeased with this action. They kept going. Mom kept taking pictures. Why? Why is my sorrow to be photographed? You didn’t see me all out with the camera when she started lumbering around on those silly crutches, now did you? This is just plain rude. I am a lady of the South (what up, Rocky Mount!). I am dignified and have manners. Clearly she is not, and has none.

Then they sat me up, and said “now the bad stuff begins.” WHAT the WHAT?! How is everything until this moment not bad????

Mom started wrapping this hideous blue plastic thing around my head. She has another thing coming to her if she thinks that’s gonna last. Well, she must’ve gone to some fancy overpriced school or something, cause she snapped that sucker on, and I could barely see. I gave her the serious stink eye.

Nana brought me upstairs on my leash (in their hurry to put the hideous plastic thing on my head, they forgot to remove my harness, so now I am stuck in it!). I stumbled around the kitchen for a bit, and was hand-fed some food, including my favorite super-stinky salmon treats (who’s got servants NOW?!). I know I should be grateful for food, since it had been nearly 24 hours since my last meal. Even so, I’ll admit I kind of bit her hand a little each time she offered me some. And I do not feel the least bit bad about it.

I started to fall asleep standing up (again, somehow this is “cute” and required more photos to memorialize my humiliation) and so I was guided/bribed with green beans into the family room, where my bed is located during the day.

I couldn’t quite make it onto my bed.

why won't she stop FOLLOWING ME?

I am not sure how I will feel later, but I’ve heard whispers that I will wear the hideous plastic thing for the next TEN DAYS until my stitches are removed. I know my mom got some killer pain meds for HER surgery. Apparently – even though I had TWO incisions, thank you very much – dogs don’t rate quite as highly. I will suffer and let them know I am suffering. I hope they feel good and guilty for inflicting so much pain on me, even if it is “because they love me.” Whatevs.

Thanks for all the kind well-wishes. In between humiliating, photographing and maiming me today, my mom did tell me how many people wished me well on that Book of Face and in email. That was really nice. Thanks, people! I know you’re good. Now I just wish you’d rescue me from my pain-inflicting mom.

I guess she loves me, too.

*If there existed any great mystery as to why my mom remains single, I believe there is no more