Unexpected Couch Time

Hey Everybody,

So, Debbie, you don't need to read this one with close scrutiny, because it's what I scribbled to you and THEN hit on the idea that, "Oh yeah, I should maybe write something on my blogsite sometime this year; this qualifies as Material."

I had a birthday recently and our dearie friends living in Mexico blessed us by coming up Monday and staying the night, which is always a heartwarming thing for me. I love little persons tucked into all the nooks and crannies of our house, possibly dreaming of pool extravaganzas and limitless hours of Polly Pocket play in the living room. We all had a great time. Except for little Anna, who vigorously reviewed a week's worth of meals as she bent dutifully over one of our potties at 3am. The poor, poor thing. Needless to say, the morning was spent in hurriedly gathering All Things Fruin and they beat a hasty retreat back to Mexico, stopping first at Costco for 2 new tires, because the one with the nail in it hissed out the bulk of it's air in our driveway. (Tuesday morning's entry in the Fruin Log did not conclude with, "And It Was Good") Anna continued hurling into our borrowed blue bucket all the way across the border, but was fine by nightfall (I don't want that bucket back, by the way.....). That's good, that she's better. We're glad for that. So far, no one else's intestines have engaged in the same colorful tango.

Heidi admitted last night that as soon as she heard that Anna had lost it, she secretly said to herself, "You guys don't know it, but as soon as the front door closes on you, Mom will Clorox the entire house down to the rebar under the tile floor...." and of course, she was right (only now, I use an environmentally friendly cleaning agent, for the most part). So, I was busy, not disinfecting (I had already finished that), but pulling the coffee table away to vacuum under it when I over-estimated it's weight and yanked it full bore into my pinky toe. Well, that stopped me for a sec, to be sure, but then I finished the job, went on to mop the tile with an accommodating limp and then slithered into the tub where I noticed that something was really not so right with my foot altogether. 'Cuz, getting in, I screamed involuntarily when I stepped in and put pressure on it, which isn't really all that normal for me, unless there's a bee underneath, which there wasn't.

I kept ice on it after that (my chores were done, I didn't have to leave the couch) and when Clay got home at 8, he suggested all kinds of helpful things, including calling one of his pals, who happens to be an ER doc. I declined each thing, because, really, it was just a bad stubbing. Besides, Paul, the ER doc, is a sweet young man and I've only ever had all of 3 conversations with him, and I didn't think thrusting my foot in his face and saying, "Dude, does this look weird to you?" would be anything less than awkward and taxing on such a new friendship. Plus, they're in our brand new foodie group, and that vision for him, every time we got together to eat, might spoil any wish to continue being IN the foodie group, and we need him in there, because his absolutely charming wife owns the much-coveted William's Sonoma crock pot in which she makes succulent pulled pork.

When I woke up this morning, though, the pretty blue color had crept way up my foot and there was absolutely no stepping on it. So, I got myself appropriately groomed and drove to Urgent Care where I spent no less than 3 riveting hours in the waiting room yawning and reading amongst other souls in various states of disrepair, some vomiting into ziplock baggies (fun times!), others unabashedly ensconced in Swine-Flu-repelling masks. I'm not even kidding. The UC staff at least had the courtesy to divide the waiting room in half and have the Flu-symptomatic folks on one side with the rest of us sorry schlepps on the other.

A hobble down to "Imaging", 3 x-rays later and, Ta-Da! Pinky is broken. GAH! Can you BELIEVE it? I don't even have a good sporting story to go with it. I mean, WHO breaks their toe VACUUMING? Even the doctor had to mask his stupification with a purposefully blank expression before moving on in the conversation. This sort of reputation lands me squarely in the "CLUTZ" category. "Most traffic accidents occur within 1 mile of your own driveway." My personal version: *Right Inside The Comfort Of Your Own Home* After comparing notes, Jen and I figured out that we get this, plus our insatiable love of high heels, from our German grandmother. (Jen broke her foot falling off a curb. At least she was OUT, having FUN.) Our grandmother regularly tripped and splatted down to the sidewalk with absolutely no visible obstacle in sight to cause such mishaps, and her feet were permanently Barbie-shaped because even her HOUSE slippers were these fabulous gold wedge heels trimmed with white boa at the toes. (Believe me, they underwent close scrutiny on my part.) Our sister, Steph, on the other hand, has never broken anything in her foot region (correct me if I'm wrong, Steph) and also trots around in Sensible Shoes that defy those sorts of accidents. She and our mother excel in "Being A Lady". Not Jen and I. Nope. However, heels are not to be blamed in either of my breakages (yes, I broke the ball of my OTHER foot a few years ago, also at home, decorating for Christmas.....)

So, there you go. The blog might get a few entries this week, as I've been instructed to keep my foot elevated and iced for the next day and then no real walking on it for days afterwards (read: COUCH AND CHOCOLATE FEST), beCAUSE, I broke it right into the joint and if I don't give that time to heal properly, it will be prone to early arthritis. Anybody got any other good news??? Oh yeah; my house is spotless!
Cheers.