1. I decided at about 5:30 this morning that I wouldn't let a red and swollen toe and foot stop me. My left foot is red and angry and swollen starting at the top of my big toe. The inflammation runs along the top and right side of my toe and on the side just above of the ball of my foot and along the top of my foot for several inches in a red stripe about the width of my big toe. It took me about four or five loosenings to get my left shoe on. Once I did, however, my offended toe and foot seemed fairly comfortable in my shoe. I drove to Sam's and, without too exaggerated of a limp, sauntered into Sam's and soon Scott, Buff, and Jerry arrived. Ed is out of town, having a ball in the San Diego area. After enjoying my breakfast and some good conversation about the Zags' loss to Florida State, leaky roofs, moisture in Pete's pickup's ignition, and other things, I came back home, did my morning writing, and went to bed. I'd had another uneven night's sleep thanks to my nocturnal bathroom habits, the dogs wanting to eat every two hours, and flare ups of pain. But, for about two and half hours this morning, the dogs slept, my pain didn't wake me up, and I enjoyed the bliss of uninterrupted sleep. It was a great boost to my morale.
2. My morale got another boost when I woke up and checked my pocket computer for messages. Christy invited me join her and Carol at the Bean. She assured me they would wait for me when I told her I would need time to gather myself. I joined my sisters and after I'd drunk a cup of half Americano and half steamed milk and Christy and Carol finished their drinks, we piled into Christy's Jeep Cherokee and climbed the hill up to the Greenwood Cemetery. We were all hoping the snow at the cemetery had receded enough that we could safely make out way to Mom and Dad's gravesite so Christy could lay a wreath upon their grave. We were successful. We cleaned up the gravesite a bit, paid our respects, and returned to town. Our visit sobered me, not only as I reflected within myself about Mom and Dad being gone, but as I looked at grave marker after grave marker of people our family has known over the years, buried in the same section as Mom and Dad.
3. I stayed home for most of the rest of the day. I decided not to go to the Pine Creek Tavern to meet with the Wallace people I've joined the last three weeks; I didn't go up to the Inland Lounge. If I am in the midst of an attack of gout, I shouldn't drink beer. Instead, I went to Yoke's and, among other things, bought some Epsom salts and a jar of cherry juice, following recommendations from friends. After our visit to the cemetery, Carol gave me a vial of Gout Blend essential oils. So, rather than socialize, I applied essential oil to my inflamed area, soaked my foot in Epsom salts and warm water, drank cherry juice, and listened to a variety of podcasts, including The Daily, 1A, Here and Now, Fresh Air, and Up First. All of these podcasts helped me sort out a variety of stories that have emerged this week. Tomorrow, assuming I'll still be nursing my foot, I plan to listen to fewer podcasts and get back to reading Great Expectations and Joseph Mitchell.
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