Links to Love (Week 21, 2012)

Welcome to the weekend. You made it.

Isn't Annie Vought's letter scherenschnitte beautiful?








Lock up your ice cream. My sister Sica could use something similar.


Life backwards in San Francisco:




A slinky on a treadmill:




I bet you didn't know that PowerPoints could be so funny:

Walking is Dangerous and May Mess Up Your Plans

"You sure have a cute crack on your metatarsal," said the doctor with the kind-hearted voice, my friend's dad. "You did one good job on your foot."

The good news is that I saved 89% on x-rays by going to a place suggested by another friend (I paid $50). I have very good friends.

The bad news is that it looks like I'll be getting a cast, and my mind is asking, "Won't that thing be heavy and further hurt my knee? Won't I have one wimpy leg when it's off? Won't it get stinky? How will I shower? Don't casts make your skin all flaky in there? How in the world am I supposed to go hiking this summer? I'm still not going to be able to sleep, am I? Will I be able to wear anything besides a skirt or dress every day?"

The other good news is that a cast is not surgery.

Though I realize that it is completely illogical, what I really want is for something magical to happen and for my foot to be back to normal.

All from walking. I didn't trip. I wasn't on uneven ground. I wasn't walking too fast; in fact, I was walking rather slowly. All I did was walk, and wham! what I imagined for the next two months of my life changed in an instance.

I don't know how to end this post because really I'm already throwing a pity party for myself. It could be much worse, yes. But so much could be much better, couldn't it? Maybe I should go re-read that optimism book, or get a massage, or play a game, or sleep, but I don't think any of that is going to hold off the pity party for long. Ideas? (And don't say service, please, because then I'll just groan again at the lameness of movement right now.)

I think I'll at least start with the things I am grateful for in this situation . . .

• the TLC I've been getting from Michael and his family
• an understanding boss
• generous and helpful friends in the medical field
• Ibuprofen and Tylenol
• the cookies that we made last night that are waiting for me in the kitchen

It's gonna have to end there. The cookies are calling my name.

Links to Love (Week 20, 2012)

Yay for learning Photoshop and doing some web design this week. Boo to being in a lot of pain and pretty much helpless. Let's distract ourselves, shall we?

I want to live here:




(Here's another fabulous piece of architecture.)

Don't read this if you're a cat lover. (Thanks, Jeff.)

What would you look like if you were blown by extremely high winds?

Literary maps.

This appeals to my old-people-loving self:




Webcams of endangered species.

Permanent marker floors (wonderful, but maybe too busy for my taste?).

The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air these days:





House at Pooh Corner for sale.

A little Super Mario nostalgia:




And finally, returned Mormon missionaries in pro sports.

Wearing Red for Autumn and Pleas

RIP Aunt Flo Party

Remember all the red I was wearing in this post? There was a reason for it. Friday, you see, was the day that many friends got together to show support for my friend Autumn, the co-founder of Blabbergasted. Autumn, you see, was recently diagnosed with stage 3 uterine cancer and will be having a hysterectomy today.

I'm not sure whose brilliant idea it was, but about twenty of us celebrated the one thing to celebrate in the whole healing process--the end of the annoyances of menstruation (ignoring the wonderful things it stands for), and thus the red theme.

I'm glad that surgery should start Autumn on her way to health, and that she has a sense of humor about trying out different hairstyles as her hair falls out with chemotherapy, but I couldn't help thinking yesterday how tragic it is that the hysterectomy comes the day after Mothers Day. (Kudos to Autumn for having a wonderful theory about how her maternal lamp can spread its light on anyone--kind of an "it takes a village to raise a child" approach.)

To make things more tragic, I've said it before and I'll probably say it again: American health care needs help. I don't know how to solve the problems, but I hope someone out there does.

There is something wrong when a dear friend of mine (or anyone, really) has symptoms of cancer for a year but doesn't get them checked out because of insurance costs. 

There is something wrong when pain after hurting my foot is almost the lesser reason to cry because I'm thinking of money. 

The programs set in place to help people who can't afford health care are so difficult to finagle. (Believe me, when I was desperate for ingrown toenail help, I tried.)

Thus, I have several pleas:

• Pray for Autumn.
• Support health care progress.
•  If someone you care about tells you that they are having health issues, I don't care what it takes, work together with others to get help for that person early on.
• Take care of yourself.

Get well soon, Autumn!