Oh yeah, and Kristian just gave me an iPad as a early birthday present.

It definitely does not suck to be me.

Snooki wig!

Oh, sorry, “Guidette Wig.” Right, iParty, you’re really fooling us with that one.

Speaking of which?

“Festive Fern Lei?”

Yeah, those are so supposed to be pot leaves. Although I do love the idea of someone’s grandma going, “Oh, I love ferns!” and wearing them to a luau.

Anyone want to see photos of some of the other props?

Also, how much would you pay me to wear this thing to work tomorrow? Or out to a bar some night?

PS: It is ridiculously difficult to take a Snooki picture.

PPS: Especially when you have a moral objection to making duck faces.

PPS: And you’re not orange.

The oral surgeon was nicer than most of my dentists have been. He swabbed the area where he injected Novocain with a topical gel. And then, once he’d given me the Nococain, he waited a few minutes and then gave me another injection to make sure that everything was completely numb. Of course, he did brace his hand on my eyeball while patching me up, so I guess we can call it a wash.

The procedure itself was not as bad as in my worst imaginationings (granted, I have an extremely vivid imagination). It involved quite a few more pieces of bloody gauze than I had anticipated, but I didn’t feel a thing. I won’t go into any more details. Because, well, you know, gross.

When the surgery was done, I was handed two ibuprofen and instructed to avoid strenuous activities and prolonged sun exposure (so much for my plan to spend all day today doing calisthenics in our hammock). I steadfastly maintain that any procedure that involves having bits of you cut out and then sewn onto you elsewhere should really come with some better drugs than ibuprofen. Or more than two ibuprofen.

I’m still in a decent amount of pain (the ibuprofen! she does nothing!) and I was up until about 3am last night, but I think I’m turning a corner. I ate actual food today and I managed to not slobber most of it on myself. I’m glad that I took today off to recuperate and I just might spend a good chunk of the weekend keeping it up. My only regret is that I’ve cleared out a good chunk of what was on the tivo.

Let’s all hope that I feel better tomorrow!

I’ve decided to view this whole gum surgery business as a forced break from all of the running around that I’ve been doing lately. I have nothing planned for tonight except to lie on the couch, drink a smoothie and watch some stupid TV. And then, I’m taking the day off tomorrow and I’m not getting up from the couch unless nature calls or the house is on fire. And even then it’s negotiable.

I ate an apple with my breakfast this morning, just to eat crunchy foods while I still can. I haven’t decided what to eat for lunch yet. Maybe some taffy. Perhaps some biscotti. How about some broken glass?

Does anyone have any recipes for vodka smoothies? :p

You get this photo in a batch of potential wedding slideshow photos from a family member and say to yourself, “Not only should I put this is in the slideshow, I also feel that it is my solemn duty to upload this to Facebook and my blog.”

Also, it’s a fantastic idea to constantly refer to your toast as a “roast” and to request your own bottle of champagne so that you can swig directly from it whilst roasting the bride.

I have a sneaking suspicion that my sister is going to wish that she had chosen an ugly dress. Preferably one with a butt-bow.

Someday, this is going to be the world’s most awesomest sewing room. The exact antithesis of a man cave. A woman attic. Merely stepping into it might be enough to cause you to sprout ovaries and spontaneously menstruate. You’ll leave the room needing a hot compress, chocolate and some midol. At the moment? It’s distinctly lacking in, oh I don’t know, walls. Floorboards. Working electrical outlets.

It is, however, rich with things that could be used as booby traps. And places for the cats to hide. So, there’s that.

We’ve come a long way. We tore everything down to the studs, knocked down a wall, took down the ceiling, added in four skylights and we’re putting in new track lighting and ceiling fans. It’s going to go from two small, cramped and dingy rooms to one big, beautiful, open area. With cathedral ceilings, tons of natural light and about a million craft supplies. Like I said, woman attic.

I am constantly needing to remind myself that, once the electrician finishes (and he says that he only needs 5-6 more hours up there), it’s just a matter of patching the floors and hiring someone to hang drywall. It will pretty much be useable at that point. Because, at this point, it just feels like it’s going to be a construction zone for ever and ever.

I just hope we finish someday.

Oh yeah.

Lookin’ good, right? Right? Right?!?!?!

Oddly enough, I was not the only person at this wedding dancing with a boot on. I wish that I had a picture, but I had a bit of a dance-off with a guy rocking the exact same boot as me but on the other foot. We had a bit of a bonding moment until he told me that he hurt his foot in a drunken mishap and then asked what happened to mine. When I told him it was a half marathon, he completely lost interest and then wandered off.

Who knew running was so unattractive!

It was a truly magical weekend. One that’s only possible when the planets align to give you perfect weather, delicious meals and some extra time to hang out with the people that you really care about. I won’t bore you with the details, but I will tell you about sitting on the beach after the wedding with Kristian and two of my favorite friends. It was a perfectly clear night with millions of stars and a meteor shower in progress. We sat on the beach and watched the ocean all the way out to Provincetown. The air was a little bit chilly, but we all curled up in a pile on the sand. Huddled together for warmth, we giggled and chatted and teased each other about who saw which shooting star. It was one of those scenes that you could never fully describe and are too dark to capture on camera, but which stay with you forever. It was a truly wonderful moment, a perfect confluence of all the right elements.

Happy Monday, everyone! And how were your weekends?

I went to the gym yesterday. I forgot my headphones at home, so I had a lot of time to spend in my own head. It can get a little scary in there sometimes, but it’s not a bad place to be. You could make jokes about all of the open space, but I find that it gets pretty cluttered up in there. I thought a lot about resiliency and optimism and the best way to see all of the good things in my life that I have going on for me. And there are a whole lot of them.

In a little over a year, I’m going to marry this guy.

If there was nothing going well in my life, I would still consider myself to be lucky, just because I have Kristian in my corner. He’s been doing most of the work around the house since I hurt my foot (I can’t remember the last time I walked the dog). He brings me flowers when I’ve had a bad day. He brings me flowers “just because.” He makes me laugh. Out of every person that I know in this world, I can’t think of one who doesn’t absolutely love Kristian. Perhaps people are lying to me because of my blatant and obvious bias, but I choose to believe that it’s just because he’s that awesome.

When I’ve had a bad day, I can curl up on the couch with this cutie.

I don’t think I ever realized how much joy a dog could bring into my life. Gracie drives me crazy sometimes, but you can’t spend five minutes with her and not be completely charmed by how sweet and hilarious she is. She’s always happy to see me. She instinctively knows to come over and snuggle up to me when I’m in a bad mood. And she is keeping the neighborhood skunk-free, one skunk at a time.

(Ok, that last one is not so great.)

(Especially for the skunks.)

I got to spend a good chunk of the summer with these two.

When Dmitri first came into my life, it stunned me how much love I had in my heart for him. Then a few years later, we found out that Ruby was on the way and I wondered where I was going to find the room for her. I shouldn’t have worried. Like the Grinch who attempted to steal Christmas, my heart grew 6 sizes that day (rate of heart growth is approximated). I asked my doctor if I should be nervous about my enlarged heart, but she just told me that it’s customary to love your nieces and nephews like this. And to be prepared for further growth when we have little ankle biters of our own. When it comes time for that, I may find that my center of gravity has shifted appreciably.

I consider myself lucky if I get to see my sister and her beautiful family a few times in a year. I’ve seen them four times since Memorial Day. And I loved each every moment of every single visit.

This fall, I’m going to be the maid of honor for these two.

Not only has my sister been the complete and utter opposite of a bridezilla, she’s made helping her with wedding family a lot of fun. It doesn’t hurt that I take every opportunity to express my joy at “roasting” her instead of the wedding. “Toast,” she says. “Roast!” I says.

(Shhh, don’t tell her, but I have already thought of at least two whole nice things to talk about.)

I could go on and on about the people (and animals!) in my life who bring me joy and contentment. They can’t take away the foot pain or fix my gum recession, but they make all that crap fade into the background. I think that’s all we can ever really ask for. Life can sometimes suck, and things are never perfect. But it’s our job to find happiness in the good moments and to let the bad ones simply wash over us. You can focus on the things that go wrong (something I’ve gotten quite good at doing lately), but it would be a shame to let it distract you from all of the things that are, quietly, unassumedly, going very, very right.

The orthopedist called me Monday and said, “Good news! You don’t have a stress fracture… but you do have an inflamed plantar fascia, achilles tendon and [another tendon whose name I can't remember.]”

I’m thinking that this guy and I have different definitions of “good news.”

Also, is it wrong of me to feel kindof proud of the fact that he was almost impressed?

I’m guessing that not having a stress fracture is probably a good thing. I can start taking the boot off every now and then. I can go see a physical therapist to cut down my recovery time. And it’s a good excuse to get foot massages. I guess my problem is, I’ve been dealing with this for almost 2 months now and I am just so ready to be done. I am fully aware of how lucky I am to know that there is a light at the end of this tunnel and that my foot will be fine (eventually). I’m not in a wheelchair, I will walk (and run!) again.

I can be fairly patient, but I’m starting to run out of it. The boot is hot. It’s itchy. It makes my hips and my back hurt. I have knots all the way down the entire left side of my body from walking unevenly. My foot smells so bad after a day with the boot on that dog gives me funny looks, as if to say “Rub some garbage on that thing, woman. It stinks!” I’m glad to know that my foot is going to start feeling better, but I can’t help but feel a little annoyed that I can’t get an appointment to see a physical therapist for another three weeks. The doctor was adamant that I not go out and start running again, and that’s all that I want to do right now!

He didn’t, however, forbid me to bike or use the rowing machine.

Guess what I’m going to do after work today?

Muahahahahaha.

Maybe I’d be a little less cranky about all of this if I could milk my invalid status for all it’s worth. I suppose it should be nice to lie down on the couch while Kristian vacuums and does the laundry. But, between the internets and me, it mostly just makes me feel guilty. Besides, what good is it to lounge around when he steadfastly refuses to peel my grapes for me? Oh, the huge manatee.

I’ve found that most people are really good at staring at my boot like it’s a visible sign of extremely contagious and deadly leprosy and not so good at doing things like, oh, I don’t know…. offering me a seat. On places like a crowded subway train. When I’m visibly having a hard time standing up with a giant fucking rocker on one foot. I’m not bitter, no sirree.

Oh wait.

I’m totally bitter.

I was on the Green Line the other day and, not only did nobody offer me a seat, one (finally!) opened up and some chick stole it from me as I was hobbling over to it! I wish that I had confronted her, but I was just so shocked that all I could do was stand there like an idiot while I inwardly seethed. Someone else (someone with a soul!) offered me a seat, which was much appreciated as I was in a considerable amount of pain at that point. As I was getting off the train, I saw that seat-thief had been displaced. By a women who is obviously undergoing chemotherapy right now. I’d like to think that she spontaneously grew a conscience, but it’s much more likely that the woman with cancer is just better about standing up for herself than I am.

Between my foot, a couple cavities and the gum surgery that I need in a couple of weeks, I’m starting to feel like all I ever do is go to various doctors’ offices. If this is what it’s like to get old, I sincerely hope that the medical profession starts upgrading its waiting room reading material.

Oh well, I’ve spent all of today boot-free and I haven’t had any pain. And things can only get better from here on out!