The one where I question my new found desire to post everyday

I was once in a comedy improv class, and the teacher told us if we were ever stuck we should just start moving, and then the skit (and the humor) would evolve from there.  Amazingly, this advice worked.

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Now we know improv doesn’t translate to blog writing.  Okay, that isn’t a surprise, but after staring blankly at the screen for a while thought I’d give it a shot.

In other news of things that don’t work, the boot is still on the foot that is still broken.  Not actually broken, but “on the foot that still has the crazy swollen tendon that is actually visibly swollen, as opposed to when the tendons in my arms swell up but the only evidence of it is me saying ouch!” takes longer to type.  Wouldn’t want that, now would we?

Also, I haven’t made it to the grocery store since I ended up in the boot, so snack-age is in short supply.  Which feels like something that doesn’t work, even though it probably means we’re healthier.

I saw several women walking and limping around in crazy high heels today.  I don’t wear four-inch stilettos without a gin and tonic in my hand.  Because I need something to numb the pain so I don’t limp around.  The limping ones I did not envy.  I have my own limp, thank you very much.  But the ones who actually seemed comfortable in their elevation adding shoe wear, they made me a little envious.  “ooh,”  said my inner voice, “lookity.  pretty.  probably the same height as the boot!”  My inner voice doesn’t use capital letters, and is getting a bit tired of wearing the same shoe every day.

I did have the image of walking into a shoe store and flagging down a clerk “Bring me something stunning in a size nine, with a heel that matches the height of the storm trooper boot!”  But no, sanity prevailed.

I’m so not a shoe crazy gal, but being trapped in storm trooper boot/high healed sandal land is doing something strange to my reality.

In other news, it is warm.  It was in fact hot, but now that the sun is down it has downgraded to warm. Prompting me to wish we had ice-cream.  Or at least had an ice-cream store we could walk to.  And also to wish that my foot was all healed so we could walk there.  (What?  You thought I was going to stop obsessing on my foot?)


About woodenmonkey

Just your average solar powered, hybrid driving, organic eating, happily married, pro-choice, feminist Christian artist and writer from San Francisco.

Posted on May 4, 2011, in ouch, the typing makes me sound busy. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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