Thanks everyone. . . great sharing and advice.
Walking on feet that feel broken . . .
I just got back from trying to buy the latest issue of
Pastel Journal, as an artist featured in the October issue introduced me to the medium. I felt up to it when I left, and hit Borders first. No luck . . . they still had the August issue on the rack. Back to to the car (I was lucky enough to get a good handicapped spot) and on down the road to Barnes and Noble. Again, a close parking spot, but of course magazines are way in the far corner. By now I am hobbling a little, feeling like my feet have been squeezed into rock climbing shoes (
fyi -- these are torture devices that feel wa-a-a-y too small that one wears to get a good grip on steep rock faces while hoisting an able body up the rock . . . I used to do this!) and just hoping that they have my magazine. But, drats!, they have no issues, old, new, or otherwise. I did get to leaf through The Art of Avatar, however, which was a huge disappointment: I was expecting it to be of much higher quality given how stunning I found the film. Well, that was $29.95 saved.
A quick stop at JoAnn to buy some bells for keeping cats away from our bird feeders . . . and a stop at Costco . . . and by the time I was getting into my car I could barely walk. Now I am wishing I had stayed home. I am sitting here trying to remember to breathe through the stinging, burning and totally trashed-feeling in my feet. I have taken a pain pill, but will likely have to inhale some of Eddie's #8 . . .
to get enough relief to cook dinner.
Next week-end we are slated to take our grandson to the fair. My dear daughter is already disappointed that I will be unable to do any rides with him. I am just hoping I will be able to enjoy the day and actually get around. It seems way too soon to have to consider renting a scooter for $50 . . . but if I have to I will.
And to think I used to carry a 40# backpack and hike upwards of 12 miles a day, sleep on the ground, and get up and do it again the next day, just for a chance to attempt an ice-and-snow summit push . . . and now just getting out of bed is a chore!
Whew! Thanks. I needed to complain loudly for a minute . . .