Love (My Friend Paul) Thursday

My physical therapist is trying something new with my foot. After reconstructive foot surgery, all the bones and screws and artificial cartilage and all has healed nicely. But I have this one tendon that refuses to give up the fight and just be a good little tendon. So now I'm wearing this new-fangled little steroid patch thing. (I took a picture but you know what? It's so ugly that I can't bring myself to post it.)

I don't think the patch is working, though, because yesterday was one of the most painful days I've had with my foot since I got the cast off. As I was driving to the airport to pick up the Math Literate half of this marriage, I realized I was gritting my teeth because I was in real pain.

Bummer.

Anyway, add that in to the whole suckage of my week and THEN add THIS in: We are leaving for a trip house-hunting in New York tomorrow. Our flight is scheduled for 7:00 AM. In one of my classic blunders, I was also scheduled to do three presentations at my daughters' school on what it means to be a writer as part of this Career Day event from 8-11. I'd looked into changing my flight and it would have cost $200 and put me into JFK at rush hour. My husband? Not so happy at the idea.

I asked just about everyone I knew who could even hold a pencil and came up with no one. I was so stressed out over this, and the move and how Jane hasn't been very nice to my mother this visit and my foot and pretty soon, I was working on a really nice case of "oh, poor, poor, pitiful me." I was just about to turn on Hank Williams and put my head in the oven when...

last night, I got an e-mail telling me that I'd won a blogging award.

No, seriously.

Look:


I think I stopped smiling and issuing tiny squeaks of joy about 3:00AM.

And then, this morning, still buoyed, I decided to make a last ditch effort to find someone to take my place. So, I sent a note out to my Book Club and one of my fellow club-members loaned me her incredibly witty and multi-published author husband. He's showing up tomorrow to enlighten the fourth and fifth graders about what it means to be a writer, and since he's actually got a book DEAL and everything, he's really more qualified than I am.

I, however, have a fourth grader so I am qualified in my own way. And I've got a BLOG AWARD, in case I haven't mentioned it. Me. An award.

You can read the incredible review of that post on the Rising Blogger under the date of November 28, 2007. You might want to print it out and frame it... oh wait, that would be me.

Thank you, Lori. You redeemed my entire week.

I would have promised to be your slave for life but I already promised that to my friend Paul for agreeing to take my place at Career Day. I think I'm going to be a bit busy for a few decades...

Comments

You're as bad as I am - going gaga over any and all positive feedback. What's wrong with us? Should we care this much? I swear, I act like a puppy, begging to be scratched behind the ears.

Or maybe it's a good thing, caring about our impact (humorous or otherwise) on other human beings. Yeah, that's it.
Damsel said…
Yaaay!!! Congratulations!
Kit said…
Wonderful.
MadMad said…
Congrats on the award! Good luck with the househunting - and make sure you get that last Noblablah post in!
annabanana said…
Happy journeys, congrats on the award (I love external validation) and hope the househunting is wonderful...how exciting!
DK said…
Oooh, that was a good post. Congrats!

Steroid patch, huh? Interesting.