Did it.

A month’s-worth of daily posts.

(And, although not always here, I’ve taken a photo each day with this here phone.)

Unfortunately, I tend to do this at the end of the day, tired and not in the best frame of mind. So I do get a little self-indulgent. Or, whiney.

I’m proud that I made the space to do a little typing practice. The kindling of creativity and creation has been relit. The results aren’t incredible writing, just a return to self.

And it feels darn good to be here. Thanks for reading.

More to come. The question is simply what? A month of getting up early? A return to working out? Better living through better cooking?

Lucky me. I get to decide.

My left foot.

It hurts. Been hurting for over a year. Mostly at the start of the day. It’s often so bad that I limp.

I assumed the pain would simply go away. That perhaps I bruised it jumping down off the rope at circus class and it needed time. Then, I thought it was simply tired out tootsies from being on my feet all day teaching at Sock Summit. Around New Year’s I tried to run it off. Push past the pain.

I tried to treat it with ice, rest, massage, acupuncture, ART. I could get the joints in my foot to pop at times when rubbing them. When I started rolling it in a golfball, I was struck by a recovered memory. There was that one day I had accidentally kicked the metal leg of the couch. Really hard. Barefoot, of course. Was that it?

The hurt is difficult to describe. My first steps in the morning burned on the sole. Like a fascial irritation but centered on the ball of my foot toward the outside (unlike plantar fascitis). But there was also a dull ache on the top of the foot, but deep. The bones felt congested, as if there wasn’t enough room for all of them. I wanted to break open the foot and spread everything out.

As I haven’t seen any major progress as months went on, I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I may simply have to live with this. Another ache and pain as a result of getting older. My running and athletic days were over. C’est la vie, non?

Something just wasn’t right in my foot. If it had been broken, I assumed I would have been in excruciating agony. Instead, I couldn’t point my toe as well and never felt comfortable in any shoe nor barefoot.

Lately, my only solace has been five-toed socks and toe stretchers. They bring circulation and sensation to the area. I may have ordered some freaky looking slip-ons that should come later this week (they now come in wool!).

Looking at my foot today (being home from work), I noticed how off my “ring finger” toe is. Like a mis-mounted stitch, it has a different orientation than all the other four. One of these things is not like the others… Why did it take me a year to see this?

No wonder things feel out of place. No, I haven’t gone to see a doctor or had it x-ray’ed. I know what good used to feel like. And I miss it. I want it to get better. My foot is sending a message that hurt is not sustainable. I need to get aligned.

(this is also a metaphor.)

I get why they named a whole set of blahs after the first day of the workweek. Mine were compounded by a not-so happy tummy and wanting to have more accomplished than I have the time to complete.

I haven’t yet found anything to photograph today. That’s not necessary for this here typing practice, but I still hope to find something to remember or highlight about this blah. ETA: found it!

What was remarkable?

• Some good news today getting me one step closer to completing a big project.
• An upsetting profile of a former advertising rock star who’s searching for his soul — Alex Bogusky in Fast Company.
• A reassuring article about (not) finding happiness in consumption in the New York Times
• And, of course, good caramels.

They’re all carefully ensconced in their paper shrouds. Likewise, the weekend is all finished up. Pretty darn tasty, too. At least the caramels are.

Caramel posts twice in a row? Life isn’t all about variety. There’s sadly a whole bunch of repetition. Besides, I don’t have much to share that’s special about today.

Breakfast, wrapped caramels, talked to my mom, napped with Janie, laundry, knitted a heel flap, two loads of laundry and a bunch of trash TV. Not my most memorable Sunday. Much on my mind. Much more to do.

In the meantime, Let’s be optimistic, by Marc Johns

We are already into tomorrow and I need to go to bed so I can grab breakfast with my friend and former roomie, Seanie. I’ll keep this brief.

Enjoyed an afternoon at A Verb For Keeping Warm with the visiting Angela, and other sock campers: Leslie, Celia, Marisol. Lunched with Kristine and got to chat with Adrienne and Mike. I miss being social, an especially fiberly so.

The night ended with two batches of salted caramels. One’s already been wrapped in parchment paper, the other’s sitting in the fridge overnight and will be cut tomorrow. If you see me, I may just have some to share. I can’t eat them all!

(I’m off to bed, so please forgive the lack of linking. Not patient enough to code.)

Thursday, August 6, 2009. The first day of classes at Sock Summit. The fear and excitement and magic of the unknown.

I can honestly say that event changed my life. I had no idea what those next few days would mean to me. I am beyond grateful to have been a part of the entire experience.

Who knew that 365 days later I’d be here. Thinking about the future. About being bigger than I believe myself to be in my day to day. Again. About taking on an even bigger adventure? Or two.

Thank you, Tina and Steph.

C received a job offer today. He’s thrilled to return to UCSF. We toasted with sancerre and dinner at Chef Papa.

Here’s to pursuing dreams and moving toward a happier future. (Even if it means waking up earlier.)

That was the theme given to dress up for the Chase Corporate Challenge 5k. Sadly, only Gina and I heeded the email. Granted, most of our colleagues who participated were running for time, but a little effort would have been nice.

I don’t think I’ve ever signed up for a 5k before, other than my sister’s first in Philly. I certainly haven’t been running lately. My last marathon was in 2003 and I’ve never successfully found a way back to the habit.

I wanted to show company spirit, so I agreed to walk. Half of the walkers peeled off to a bar by the ballpark less than 15 minutes into the race, but I was part of a foursome who soldiered through the August gloom and made the hour-long march.

Not being trained or used to doing much of anything standing on my own two feet for an hour at a time, I am aware of having used my body. Focused walking gets my respect as a way to be active. Sadly, slip-on Hush Puppies do not make for the most comfortable footwear for the aforementioned activity, so I’ve got some sore toesies. I also admit defeat and need to see a doctor about the chronic foot pain I’ve experienced daily for over a year now. Limping isn’t becoming. I should have soaked my tootsies tonight in Epsom salts.

On an unrelated note, today a federal judge ruled that prop 8 to ban same-sex marriage was unconstitutional. Gay hate really isn’t becoming. I’m so happy to see this issue be raised and debated within my lifetime.

As a kid growing up, I never would have dreamed that I would have the opportunity to be legally married. It’s the right thing, I just wasn’t optimistic that US society would get there. I’m proud that California is almost as open-minded as Iowa, Massachusetts and more evolved countries.

We’ve come a long way, baby.

Sad, but true, our littlest fish Pat Finn passed away today. He had been looking ill since he arrived. I’ve done so much research on fish health, stress and proper living conditions over the past few weeks. I find them so calming and graceful, so I want to do all I can to keep ’em around.

Here’s a lesson I’ve learned: don’t name pets after people you know. Especially if they work in the same office as you. Even more especially if the naming was done out of spite because the person criticized the original name. (mind you, I was not the fish namer and the rejected name was Sticky.) You never know if the human namesake will come down with shingles. Luckily, he was back in the office today. Unluckily, the smaller scaleier one died.

As the person who is most emotionally invested in our finned friends, I had the duty of flushing Pat Finn into the great beyond (of the San Francisco sewers). I happy to report I only choked up a little. No external tears.

The two other residents Mr. Pickles and Heidi appear to be thriving. Perhaps I just don’t know how to read their various moods. Their active swimming looks happy to me. After their stint on their webby lifestream, they are going to go home with the fish-namer to her two little boys. I hope they grow big and old.

On a final note, I felt a twinge of irony as I enjoyed my fish burrito for dinner. Nonetheless, it was delicious.

My sister is flying through San Francisco on her way home from Philly and Boston. She just walked 60+ miles for breast cancer. I couldn’t be more proud of her.

Unfortunately, I can’t run out to the airport to give hug and visit she deserves. Between the drive there and back followed by a bike ride from home to the office, the time just isn’t there. What’s frustrating is the number of times she’s done it for me at SEA. Then again, her work is less than two miles from that airport.

Life is all about timing, huh? Schedules need to mesh, people need to be there and opportunity is a fickle mistress. Luckily, I’ll know this “chance” rendezvous will come around again.

Family is a destination, not an accident. Seeing her tomorrow would have just been an extra-special day. I know I’ll be headed north and we’ll make it happen next time. Time is what we make it. This time, I made one choice. There will be other choices.

Oh, and the tattoo? Her high school boyfriend put a pretty botanical piece on her shoulder and our aunt got a matching sprig of the same plant on her wrist and outside of her hand. Lesbians are wacky like that. Seriously, although I haven’t any ink myself, I can understand how sweet it is for them to bond and share the experience.

Maybe me and Janie Sparkles should make time to get matching tattoos?