On The Fly

March 13, 2010

It has been a quiet week here in the land of the corkscrewcurls (with all this rain over the last couple of days I may as well go ahead and change the name of my blog to frizzedupandfrazzled). Being off-line for a day and a half completely threw me off my game. Also, I took a nasty tumble not long after writing, “I’m running out the door”, in my last post, an event eerily similar to this except this time, instead of the bag toss, it was my face that landed on the sidewalk. Seriously… What the hell is happening to me? I used to consider myself, not quite graceful (or anywhere close to that) but certainly not fumble-footed or clumsy. I might have to blame it on the shoes I was wearing because I’m pretty sure I was donning the same pair when it happened the first time. These babies, here, in black, which I have a serious love on for. When I went to the Fly London site just now (which took forever to load) my heart skipped (at least it didn’t trip) a beat. The shoe is called the Yogo. Should be called You-go, or I-go as the case may be. In Fly’s defense I think the problem is less their shoe and more me in them. (For the record, as much as I adore the shoes I did have to have the velcroe closure replaced which kinda pissed me off for a $200 pair of shoes – but I do wear them a lot.) Even so… If I were to retrace my unstable steps, I still couldn’t say with certainty what actually went down because I didn’t feel anything trippy, twisted or stumblesque occur in the miliseconds before I wound up quite literally kissing the earth. The only real indication that I twisted my ankle, once I got home after five hours without so much as a limp, was that when I sat down, then tried to up again, I could barely move wiggle my toes without screeching. This reminded me of my “trip” to Paris referred to in that earlier post when, after peeling myself off the cobblestone, accessing the damage (didn’t seem to be any other than a bruised ego) then walking around for another six hours, I couldn’t move my foot once I got back to the hotel. In both cases, it was Bill who came to my rescue, administering the R.I.C.E. technique. (Thanks, Bill) Miraculously, I was able to walk the next day with just a slight amount of discomfort. I’m real grateful for that and the fact that I don’t have a nasty bruise splattered across half of my face. I hit the pavement with such a force it felt as if my brain shifted. But, since I’ve been seeking a brain shift for a number of years now this might not be such a bad thing. Except, next time I’m hoping it will come more in the form of a shift in perspective. I’m quite attached to my grey matter thank you very much.

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