Posted in All About Me, Travel on September 28, 2011|
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This past weekend my dear husband turned 31. For some reason, this birthday hit him harder than 30. Now he’s “in his 30’s” which means he’s closer to 40 than he is to 21. I’m just a couple of years behind him, so I guess it hasn’t hit me yet, but I’m sure it will.
Anyway, we spent the weekend in NYC. I had to go for a work-related conference so we took advantage of my pre-paid ticket and flew the hubs out to enjoy it with me. The conference ended Saturday evening, so we went out late Saturday night, explored Union Square and the Meatpacking District, caught a Mets vs Phillies game on Sunday (crossing yet another stadium off our national baseball stadiums tour checklist) and did the NBC Studios tour on Monday before hopping a flight back to STL. We ate to our hearts’ content – dining on steak, cheesecake, pizza, milkshakes…I’m hungry just thinking about it again.
Next weekend we’re off again as we drive to Louisville to catch a Marshall vs Louisville Cardinals game. (My husband grew up about 20 minutes from Marshall University so he’s a big fan.) Plus, my parents live just outside of Louisville so we’re doing a big family weekend over football. I’m kind of excited to attend my first legit college football game.
Then we’ve got a couple of “at home” events later in October, followed by yet another football-related trip in November when we go to see Michigan vs Illinois in Champaign, IL. We’re also considering taking a short trip up to Chicago after the game to do a little shopping (IKEA anyone?).
After that, we’re smack dab into the holiday craziness, which means more travel to visit family near and far. I know it’s not a TON of travel by any means, but for some reason, all these plans make it feel like the rest of my year is just so…hectic. I guess it’s a good thing I still have 10 vacation days left to burn (or I lose them) before the end of the year. Who wants to have a girls day with me?
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Dear Right Foot,
We’ve been together a long time. Twenty-nine years to be exact. You’ve carried me, quite literally, through good times and bad. But lately, and for the last year, you’ve been a royal pain in my
ass foot. At first, I thought you were just fighting back after years of mistreatment. Fourteen-hour days in cheap shoes back when I worked retail and at the movie theater in high school; about 20-30 extra lbs, particularly in college; long nights in stilettos; quick but intense workouts with zero stretching beforehand… Needless to say, I’ve been the abusive one in this relationship and I knew it would only be a matter of time before you started to let it show. So late last year, when the running and the heels became too much to handle, I stopped. I stopped running. I stopped wearing heels. I stopped everything. I assumed it was a stress fracture and so I eased up on you to give you the proper amount of time to heal. I sacrificed my health and gained nearly 10 lbs so I could give you time. I sacrificed fashion in favor of comfort, FOR YOU! And yet, 9 months later I sat in a podiatrist’s office for x-rays and MRIs so I could figure out what was bothering you since you still refused to talk to me. It was the podiatrist that finally had to tell me that we had arthritis, and some strange bone swelling going on, most likely caused by stress. I had no idea you were that stressed! Why did you let it get so bad before letting me know? Now we’ve got arthritis and we’re going to battle it for the rest of our life together! ARTHRITIS! Isn’t that an old-person’s condition? We’re only 29!
The doc suggested we take even more stress off of you by wearing a boot. So wear the boot I did. For TEN WEEKS. In a boot. In the middle of summer. But it was too late. The swelling wasn’t going away on its own so I had to call in the big guns – the kind that shoot cortisone to be specific. It wasn’t as painful as I thought it would be, but it’s not something I’d prefer to spend my afternoons doing. The doc said it would be a few days, maybe even a week or two before we would feel the full effects. Within 3 days we were feeling better, but heels were still an issue. In fact all shoes were still an issue except for one pair of black, peep-toe flats. My safe shoes. The only ones that don’t hurt. I didn’t want to rush you so over the weekend I bought some kitten heel shoes in your favorite color – RED! Super sassy and super cute. I even got them in black too, but when we got home, something tragic happened. You had a major head-on collision with the door, which felt like it ripped the nail off of my big toe. Instead, the nail is fully intact, but it’s black and blue and the slightest touch is excruciatingly painful. Now even the “safe” black flats hurt. So the new shoes will have to wait even longer.
I’m sorry. I’m not really sure what to do with you now or where we go from here. I had hoped things would finally be back to normal for our trip to NYC this weekend but it seems as if we’ll be taking it easy still and admiring other people’s cute shoes from afar. It’s unfortunate, and I know our most recent setback is totally my fault, but if you could at least TRY to be cooperative this weekend, I’ll pay you back with bi-weekly pedicures and daily lotion applications all winter long. I’ll even stop buying cheap shoes and we can check out that Good Feet store I’ve been hearing about. Scouts honor.
Now just please get better already. You really are my favorite appendage.
The rest of me
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Tonight, the hubs and I celebrated seven years of togetherness. SEVEN. YEARS. It’s kind of crazy to think about actually. I mean, on one hand it feels like we’ve known each other forever, and on the other, it feels like just a couple of years ago that we met since I can still remember it so vividly. (See previous post here on HOW we met.)
Though we weren’t technically dating until a few days later, Sept. 8 is the day we met, and it’s the day we celebrate. We call it “meet day.” As in “Happy Meet Day!” Yep, we’re dorks. Please tell me we’re not the only couple that still celebrates those tiny special dates years after they’ve been married? Regardless, I still enjoy celebrating the day every year, even if our celebration just consists of a card and dinner at one of our favorite restaurants. Some years we even go back to that fateful place, the basketball court of our old apartment complex, and try to remember all the tiny details. This year wasn’t one of those years. Between dropping and picking up my car from the shop, eating dinner, and cleaning the house before family shows up tomorrow, there just wasn’t time or desire. Instead, we indulged on smoked wings at one of our favorite restaurants called Loco’s and spent the rest of the evening de-cluttering the house and giving it a quick wipe down. We typically don’t do gifts, but I did manage to surprise the hubs with tickets to see his beloved Michigan Wolverines when they come to Illinois in November. We’ll likely make a weekend out of it with a trip to Chicago. Hopefully the city will be decked out for Xmas by then.
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