I had tickets to go see the play “War Horse” this past weekend. Unfortunately there was no way THE FOOT was going to survive getting up and down those tiny, tiny little stairs in the theatre so I stayed home while the saint and his mother went. I couldn’t really grasp whether the hubster enjoyed himself or not. I sure hope he did.
THE FOOT has had minor outings before Sunday. Himself wheels me out to the garden on a nightly basis for example and one Saturday I went with him to the store to explain the difference between fresh and frozen veggies. This past Sunday though was going to be the first outing where I’d be out more than an hour and get to see things besides the anticoag clinic or the vegetable aisle at my local supermarket
So on Sunday the spouse took me out to JoAnns and then to lunch. Yes, I know Joann’s isn’t that exciting to most of you but for me it was like being a kid in a candy store. I used to zip n and out of JoAnns not infrequently to grab whatever quilt magazine I needed in any given month. I’ve been so stir crazy that this outing was heaven. You’d think I’d been cooped up for years instead of a couple of weeks. Poor Mark trailed along behind as I kept up a running commentary on floral – nice fall colors-; the fact that Halloween decorations are already out; the fact that we need to reupholster the dining room chairs and “Oh look, isn’t that a nice fabric”. He manfully held my scrapbook papers and my quilt magazines as we stood in line. Heaven, I tell ya, heaven. Oh and JoAnns even has wheelchairs with a basket. Sadly we did not know that before going into the store so Mark became my faithful Sherpa
We then headed over to Applebees. We went in and it was not exactly a happening restaurant. We were one of maybe five couples in the joint. We were seated, or at least Mark was and we then proceeded to wait, a lot. One thing I’ve discovered is that THE FOOT has a time limit in terms of how long it likes to dangle. Turns out time limit was up about halfway through our meal. It turned a bright purple and began to throb gently. No waitress in sight, more throbbing and I finally flag her to get the check. She takes our cash and then disappears for another fifteen minutes or so as we had the audacity to ask for change. At that point I was willing to just roll out of there but himself is a much more patient and whole bodied man. We finally get our change put down a tip and voila, off home we go. THE FOOT goes to bed and all is well
My one piece of advice if you do happen to end up with a broken anything is make sure someone can get you out of your domicile. After the initial shock of breaking something, surgery etc boredom can become a big problem. I’m holed up in a room that is almost paradise for me. Lots of stuff to look at on the walls, bookcases (or as my mother in law calls it - a Borders Annex) behind me, and a window to my garden. Paradise can be just as much a prison as anything else though if you cannot get out so make arrangements with friends, family etc to go somewhere every once and awhile.
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