I almost didn’t get this in. Too focused since 4pm. Wow, just realized that was 9+ of work. The weekend ended over an hour ago and I’m just headed to bed.

I would like to master shorter, more frequent bursts of productivity. Much progress tonight. More to do, however, this pace isn’t sustainable. Work- and wool-wise.

The coming week may prove to be a doozy. C is off to shoot OR by himself. I’m single-parenting and hoping to be social. A big launch MIGHT happen this week, assuming an agreement gets signed tomorrow (which is already today). And, then there are the challenges of feeding myself and leaving for/from the office at reasonable hours.

Perhaps not so much typing practice this week. Let’s wait and see.

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.)

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

I meant to post this last night, so I could keep with my daily-ish typing habit. It was going to be a whiney “I work too late” post, but who doesn’t these days? It doesn’t make for great reading or compelling content. But it keeps the reflection up, although I don’t want to wallow in less-than-stellar feelings or preserve their memory too often.

Now, the post won’t descend into a “I failed at typing regularly (again)” self-pity. Before I fell asleep in front of the TV (only to awake at 12:20), I knew that I was going to type something, so that’s a win. I made time for the picture, but chose to eat dinner and veg out in front of the idiot box before zonking out. Having a perfect record is not really the purpose of making a little time to tend to my thought garden.

This takes us to today. Saturday morning. Some typing around 8:00am. Perhaps there will be more this afternoon or tonight. Perhaps not. No one’s counting except for me. I’m luck enough to have you reader friends who peek in here. The comments you guys so generously leave brighten my day. And you quiet ones, I feel you too.

Thank you for reading this poorly-constructed, phone-typo-riddled stream-of-conscious drivel. Right now it’s just about quantity and oiling rusty forgotten habits. Pardon the diary-rhea for the time being.

Dinner with a long-lost friend tonight in the Mission. She wrote me last-minute to say she was in town from Hood River, OR. Even though it’s been three or so years, I wouldn’t miss a meal with her. We spent too many hours on the phone, daily, during my time at CLIF Bar. A good friend indeed.

Weirdfish is one of my favorite restaurants in San Francisco. Why so? Decor, people, commitment to sustainability, vegan options and the fun they have with the menu. I enjoyed the suspicious fish tonight, which the waiter barely describes to gives a sketch of the meal but you don’t know specifics until the plate arrives. Heck, it’s only my fourth or so time there and I still haven’t tried the fried dill pickles. I need to go more often.

Going over life and career changes, talking about kids growing up and sharing future dreams, it was just like old days. It was also a reminder of how terrible I am at keeping in touch with past friends. I have plenty of stationery, a box-full of cards and fountain pens just dying to be used to chat up my past.

Instead, I let what’s in front of my nose take up all of my attention. Most often work or recovering from it. Sure the occasional anomaly (like Tami) gets me in touch or out to eat, but sadly these are not sustained. I fall off the wagon of regular communication. Weekends pass by with the best intentions to get caught up on correspondences to no avail.

Instead, I’m the weirdfish who’s great in person, but one circle around the bowl and I’m once again surprised by the plastic castle, no remembrance of tanks past. (ignoring all of the goldfish research I’ve done lately saying they are smarter than that.)

That’s one of my reasons to keep writing and snapping pictures lately. I just want to prove to myself that I can do it. Show some longevity in something. There’s no finish line, just the practice.

I’m not good at blogging.

It’s a struggle for me to make the time to write something here. Regardless, I’m trying to type put something – anything- each day. Even if it means falling asleep as I thumb away on my phone. Typos and all, it’s a quick record of what’s going on in my life, not necessarily meaningful content. I’m approaching this right now as a practice. A daily devotion to take a moment to reflect and perhaps create.

Things I know am good at make me sound like a 3 year-old. I know I like sleeping, eating and pooping. Unlike a toddler, I enjoy being active, knitting, and spending time trying new things.

Forgive me if posts end up being repetitious meditations on the same things. That’s just life.

Today was sleeping in with Janie, Sightglass Coffee, reknitting a toe, working at Tsunami Tsynchro fundraiser watershow, the pictured kimchi on a vegan hotdog from the underground market, C’s Canadian Flickr friends, more coffee and a new local Ethiopian restaurant that recently opened. Shiro? For sure! And more knitting.

A very full day that now demands rest.

Welcome to the best I could do.

This was the most productive bit of my day. I’m just ready for this project to be launched so I can move on. It is what it is.

Technically this post falls outside of the 24-hour period that is Friday, but I am just heading to bed now at 1:09 am.

I’m counting it as good.

Again, with the late night and not clearly developed thoughts. There’s just not much of note going on ’round these parts. Not in my daily life. Not to record and remember.

The one experience that occurred was sharing an elevator with a chef or cook from the restaurant in the building and the giant buckets of freshly made lobster bisque on his cart. Friendly words were exchanged. It was a lot of bisque. That’s all.

What I have to share is a link to an essay I came across on Twitter from Jad of RadioLab fame at WNYC. A powerful story of a mother loving her daughter so hard and the ugliness of life’s relentless challenges. It’s not about pity or using this to gain perspective. It’s beautiful words and the author’s truth. I hope you enjoy: For Jessica.

I gotta start earlier than 11pm if I want to ever find happiness or get a slightly considered post up here each day. I also gotta remember to take pictures when I’m in parts of SF I’ve never visited before.

Tonight, that was behind Levis Plaza on Sansome. 6:00pm meeting at the agency’s office to discuss a change order and what was and was not within scope. Riveting, believe you me.

Note to self: you have a phone with a camera. Use it. You’re typing this on it right now. Pull it out and shoot something outside of the apartment.

Time to start reading.

I am.

I felt “off” riding home from work. Felt, not fell.

Muscles were weak, chilled to the bone, sore throat. Took a nap with Janie until dinner. Food made me feel slightly better, but it’s going to be a mellow night. Thus, not much to share.

We’ll see what tomorrow brings.

(did you get the “I am under the weather” title?)