Cute -or- Pathetic?

I'll let you decide.

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Today I was just the cat by the bar saying, "I'll take another. And make it a double."

Even semi-charmed kind of lives have their bad days.

No jet-dry necessary

So, I just discovered that you can get free blog templates online. Since I'm off for two weeks, I might play with them. Although I kind of like this one, mostly because it is named "Blossoms." Aw. Just for that, here is a courtesy pic of the weenie herself:














There may or may not have been tequila involved when I took this picture.

Oh yes I did

I should have gone to the grocery store. Instead, I opened a can of Spaghetti-Os that I had on hand in case there were ever kids over.



















They are not near as good as I remember them being.

This and that

The "Certification Express" won 3rd place in the office decorating contest. The prize was $10, which they donated to our Christmas gift exchange, which was buying our favorite children's book. We all went around and told people what our favorite book was and then we donated them to Brown Santa. (Mine were "The Giving Tree" and "Bridge to Terabithia.")

I went to the doc this morning and he took me out of my boot and said I should wear tennis shoes. This will help me get my movement back in the joints. My dilemma is this: at least when I wore the boot with a suit or slacks, you could tell that I had something wrong with my foot. Wearing tennis shoes with dress clothes is just going to make me look silly and sloppy. Ugh. At least I can finally shower without a giant ziploc over my foot, so there is that.

I'm glad that none of you invited me to a Christmas party, as I would have nothing to wear. Unless you wanted me to dress up as a giant marshmallow. Next time you see me, don't panic. I'm not swollen and sick, I just really have 4 chins.

I get out of work at 2:00pm tomorrow and don't have to go back until January 5. Sweet action on that, no?

That will be all for now, folks. Been a long week.

Deep Thoughts, Christmas Edition

I know I'd heard it all before - probably at least 30 times, once each December that I've been alive, but you know how it is - sometimes you have to be open to hearing something. The sermon last week was really good. He* talked about how the census was being held and why people (aka Joseph and Mary) were traveling even though she was about to pop out a kid and all. And how back in the day, people allowed travelers to stay in the extra rooms of their homes - it was the degenerates, crooks, freaks and weirdos that stayed in the Inn. But since it was census time, there really were no extra rooms to be found. And how the Inn was really lots of little cave dwellings (kind of in a circle) with the stable in the middle so that the riff-raff could keep an eye on their animals. And even though there was no room at the Inn, the Innkeeper said that Mr. and Mrs. Christ could stay in the stable, probably just so they would get out of his way. The baby Jesus was born right there in the middle of that Innkeeper's property, but he was so caught up in everything else that was going on, he missed it.

Now, stop for a second. Have you ever stepped in dog poo? I have, and it is nasty. You know it is nasty. Now imagine that you are not stepping in dog poo, but also horse and cow and sheep and goat and rabbit feces. Don't forget the mice and snakes and spiders. This stable was full of (bleep.)** There is no other way to describe it. And Mary wasn't just stepping in it, she was GIVING BIRTH.

The point is this: The story could have worked out differently. I mean, being the son of God has it's perks, and a nice, comfortable, indoor dwelling probably could have been arranged. However, the stable was chosen as the place of Christ's birth to teach us a lesson - to represent that even in the midst of chaos, pain, loneliness, frustration, uncertainty or heartache, He is there. All of those things that make up all of the (bleep) that we go through on a daily basis - He chose to be right in the middle of it. Hopefully I won't be like the Innkeeper - so caught up in my own life that I miss seeing him there, smack dab in the middle of it all.




*Dave Haney, Riverbend Church
** four letter word that starts with "s"

Let this be a lesson to you all

For the first couple years that I was a teacher, I was well-dressed. I wore skirts and heels all the time. No frumpy jumpers or khaki pants for me. Many people don't treat teaching as a profession, and I wanted it to be clear that I WAS a professional, not somebody that woke up one day and said, "Well, crap. I guess I can just go be a teacher or something." In my opinion, if you want to be treated like a professional, you need to look like a professional. Plus, I liked having my kids say that I always looked cute, and let's be honest... every woman feels better about herself when she is wearing a sassy set of high heels.

Fast forward to years 6-7 of teaching..... you were lucky if you caught me in a skirt. I had about 4 pairs of black pants that I alternated, depending on which ones fit. Give me a twinset of any color and I'm good to go. Flat black shoes were the obvious choice, because after all, they were much more practical for a teacher that walks around for 6 hours each day. (I was not the kind of teacher you find at her desk. Proximity is the key to classroom management and eventually the kids realize that you really DO have eyes in the back of your head.) Anyway, while I still did my best to appear professional every day, let's just say I was a lot less cute than I was my first 5 years.

So anyway, I switched jobs and got to start wearing heels again. I swear, wearing cute shoes can make a big difference in your life. (***Just so we are clear, YES, I understand how ridiculous that sounds. See disclaimer on the left.***) I bought like 5 new pairs of really cute heels, most of them black, and pranced around in my cubicle like I was a CEO or something. And then....

It started slowly. Occasionally, I noticed that my left foot hurt. Not always, it kind of depended on what shoes I had worn. But gradually, it got worse. Sometimes my big toe went kind of numb. I had to face it... I was 30 years old with a bunion. Not a big, bad bunion like your grandmother has, but a little bunion that was already starting to cause discomfort. Fortunately, the neighbor across the street, Harvey, is a podiatrist, and I knew that he would tell me the truth. He said, yes - you do have a bunion but there is no rush to get it removed. I said, "Will I have to get surgery on it eventually?" He said "yes." I said, "Is there any reason I wouldn't want to do it now before it gets bad?" He said, "No, it's just that it takes about 8 weeks out of your life to heal and I know you like to be a little more active than that." Well, long story short, I decided to go ahead with it.

BEFORE:



















RIGHT AFTER THE PROCEDURE: (They wrote "yes" on my leg in permanent marker so that Harvey would be sure to operate on the correct foot.)




















WITHOUT THE BOOT: (My big toe got purple and yellow bruises and was all swollen.)















And finally, AFTER:
















I had to go in once a week to get the bandages redone, and I have to go one more time on Thursday. Hopefully at that point I will get to move from the boot to a tennis shoe. (I would have gotten to already, but I stubbed my foot and jostled the bone. So I have to be "really careful" this week.)

So, in closing, here is my advice: If you are currently in a job where you spend lots of time on your feet, invest in some really cute flat shoes. You'll still be cute, and while you won't have a totally awesome scar like the one I'll have, you will never have to tell people, "I had a bunionectomy."