In spite of...all that happening, I really had a terrifically wonderful time in Vegas. Jason and I successfully and repeatedly committed a good six out of the seven deadly sins — save for wrath, I think. Never really felt too wrath-y, except for that one moment where I thought I overheard a pack of drunk guys calling me a "hobbit" on my crutches and I was all, "EXCUSE ME, ARE YOU SERIOUS?"
And then they were all, "What? Nah! We said you were "mobbin' it" on those crutches cuz you were going so fast and shit."
And then I was all, "Oh, okay, sorry. It's just been kind of a long day."
And then they walked away and I was all, "Wait. Is "mobbin' it" even a thing? I am not sure that's a real thing."
Anyway, I still do not know if "mobbin' it" is or is not, in fact, a thing you can do on crutches, but I am entirely too busy to look it up on Urban Dictionary because of the whole post-vacation home suitcases children email work KABLOOEYNESS. (Which you KNOW is actually a thing.)
I am mostly off the crutches now and can walk pretty well with just my ankle brace, Advil and frequent lie-downs with an ice pack. (Of course, my post-vacation exercise plans are still pretty limited to vigorous ankle rotations and this weird exercise where you trace an invisible alphabet with your toe. I'm getting pretty good at that one, though I still have to stop and sing the song at least once when I lose track of what comes after K.)
I would like to officially express my completely non-snarky, sincere gratitude to Southwest Airlines and the TSA folk at the Las Vegas airport for being incredibly kind and accommodating to me and Jason on Saturday, as I was D-R-E-A-D-I-N-G the thought of trying to navigate an airport on crutches, with a ton of luggage (because SHOES), and then a cross-country flight and another airport and gaaaahmoreAdvilplease. Instead, the whole experience was so darn nice and pleasant that I would actually highly recommend injuring yourself or one of your travel companions prior to your next flight. It makes air travel a breeze! Like in the olden days when you got free champagne, only with free wheelchairs and medical preboarding.
And finally, in lieu of vacation photos (which I mostly forgot to take), here are some progress photos of my foot. I will put them after a jump-cut because they are (SPOILER ALERT) gross, which I guess SHOULD be a clue that maybe I shouldn't post them at all. Much like my repeated and dramatic falls SHOULD be a clue that maybe I shouldn't wear platform heels anymore. Hmm.
Okay, clearly I have a lot of life choices to go think about for awhile. I'm glad we had this talk. Click the link below to look at pictures of my foot. (BECAUSE NEVER! AND ALWAYS! I REFUSE TO GROW AS A PERSON!) I'll post some cute kid photos tomorrow as penance.
(I wore a little slipper-sock under my brace [which only covers my ankle and just under my heel] because my foot was much too swollen for regular socks or shoes. That's where that near-perfect bruise line came from. At one point I tried a pair of those foldable slipper-shoes but within an hour the entire top of my foot was swelling up and over the edge like a damn loaf of bread and I had to take it off.)
(FOOT MUFFIN TOP. ALSO ACTUALLY A THING. I WAS TOTES MOBBIN' IT.)
Day Three, aka The Day I Done Rode on a Plane:
Day Four, aka Yesterday:
(Gotta love how I coordinated the blanket to my bruises. It's the little details that truly make a home.)
Day Five, aka Today:
The swelling is down considerably and my skin is just the PRETTIEST shade of puke-yellow-green. And I think my foot-injury photo lighting and composition skills are also improving, don't you think? I'll keep working on them. Maybe include a bowl of fruit or a small child dressed like a 17th-century peasant in the background next time.