Thursday, December 26, 2019

Post-Op Fun

Day 3 Post-Op:  "Mom, you look depressed".  You're right. Road trip!

As long as my foot stays propped up, it doesn't feel like it's going to explode.




Navigator...which explains how we ended up in middle of nowhere Georgia.

Lonely country roads.  My favorite.

The historic Omaha-Cottonton Aerial Lift Bridge spanning the Chattahoochee.

Vintage trailers, my weakness.

Sleepy Southern towns.

Where cotton was king.

Never saw a soul. Ghost towns.

Returning home to ice and contemplate my newest project...

During my vagabonding, I'd picked up a recumbent trike, because...

They're a guy in Oregon who makes shafts for them for dogs to pull.

No biking for 6 months will kill me, unless the boys are pulling me!  Never give up hope.
Day 5 Post-Op:  back to work.  In pyjamas because that's what fits over the cast.  

We have the best horses.  I can scoot around them with my trike and they don't flinch... except for one big ninny who snorts and runs the other way.

This is what the weekend brings to us:  cold, soaking rain, over 5" of the stuff.

This is what my husband brought me.  Because skinning a 50 lb beaver on my lunch break is what I really have in mind.

A husband:  the gift that keeps on giving.

Big enough to make Dax a jacket.

Revenge is a dish best served from a crock pot.  Mystery meat on the menu, honey!

Back to taking care of the horses that will be in their stalls for 36 hours.

Adjanie helps me dry them all off and warm them up.

Too miserable for beast outside.  

Howling 35 mph winds... yup, a stall with room service is best!  I do my best, but left Flynn with half a day of mucking out to do when he came back on Monday.  A wife:  the gift that keeps on giving.

Meanwhile, I take the troops on their daily run and assess damages.

We see high lake levels and evidence of hogs.

My granny mobile does her best...

But the mud is overwhelming.  I'm surprised we make it home!

"Let's go for a run she said.  It will be fun she said."

"I don't care if I'm fat, I don't wanna exercise.  Call me an Uber".

Some take their runs to extremes. Their visibility capes are shredded.

Christmas Eve is when I decide to tackle changing out the carburetor on my Dodge.  I'd assured Flynn I would behave on my day off.  I lied.

Got in the engine compartment, now to figure out how to get out.

Defeat! The Holley carb doesn't match the bolt patterns on the engine.  Back to the drawing board.

And back to icing the foot with Nurse Kratchet.

80 lbs of Velcro.

 Our neighbor, Scrappy, keeps sending over pies.

I see the devious plan afoot:  make me so chubby that I give up on this running again notion. The chef spends Christmas Eve making lemon blueberry scones.

While I sit nearby fleshing out the beaver hide.

More eating.  French Canadian tourtieres.  All in all, the best Christmas ever!  Shout out to my partner who made it extra special.

Micah's first Christmas! He takes his present outside to unwrap it.

Dax, my prima donna, needs an audience.

Sharing gifts from Aunt Adjanie and Uncle Cristian.

Deliriously drunk from toys.

Nurses assisting me again with icing of the foot.

Back at work on Christmas day, I take breaks to raise and ice the foot that won't stop throbbing.

Where there's a will, there's a way.

As long as I can take mini breaks to raise said annoying foot.  My pain management regiment consists of only baby aspirin and lots of ice. And my special weapon against pain: puppies!

Dogs... the more the merrier.