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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary


Foot for thought

The “cookout” on Saturday was odd and check it out: no one went in the pool! Everyone secretly fears the Doughboy!*

The food was better this time around, but there was no meal planning which I found sort of strange. We just kind of grazed for hours and hours with no clear beginning or middle but definitely a well-defined and sugary end: dessert. Not that I need my meals to follow a clear narrative arc or anything. I’m just happy if they end on a sweet note, and if that sweet note has to be a supermarket strawberry shortcake then ok, I’ll eat that. Beggars can’t be choosers.

We brought our famous Rodney King dip, corn on the cob for the bbq, and spicy Italian sausages from a well-known deli. Next time I will also bring dessert. I love that even when I’m a guest at a bbq, I have to bring one item for each course. It’s partly that I’m a control freak, but mostly (I think) that I can’t tolerate food-centric events like “cookouts” if the food is less than stellar.

I don’t know if it’s a French thing, or something from my crazy family, but all events involving people and food must feature extraordinarily delicious food. If it isn’t homemade, then it must come from a very special bakery/creamery/wine shop/produce market/deli, the kind of place you don’t go to every day. Why have a party if you’re not going to go overboard and spoil everyone?

And now for something completely different: it has been two months TO THE DAY! since I had my foot operation. The scar is healing very nicely, and my foot is no longer freakishly deformed. In fact, just as Dr K predicted, my right foot now looks bizarre in comparison!

:: Progress ::

This is what the side of my left foot looked like on June 9, 2005

This is what the side of my left foot looks like today, 2 months post-op. The scar gets tinier and fainter every day and I will soon trade the Puma trainers for something more fashionable. I cannot wait to get myself some new winter boots!

Soldes de Janvier, here I come!

* By the way, I described the pool to Mr Bingo, telling him that it was just an outdoor bathtub and he exclaimed, “That is not a pool! How are you supposed to “lounge by the pool” and “dip your toes in the pool” if there’s no edge?”

8:59 a.m. - 2005-08-09



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