lesa

Great weekend. Everything I expected. The fair was great, the movie was funny, everything went well and I was treated to a wonderful time by my awesome babe of a fiance. It rocked. We got killer pictures that I can't wait to share, and we are hoping to catch the state fair when it comes to Pomona in September to indulge in more of the fun. The only let down were the corn dogs. NOT the same as I remember. In fact, they sucked. But the other goodies and the fun we had definitely made up for them.

So it's my officially birthday tomorrow. Hmm. I have to wonder about birthdays at this point in my life. You know? They seem pretty lackluster in comparison to the confetti pink, lacy, frothy-caked, sparkly, balloon-filled parties of my youth that boasted piles of pretty presents in shiny paper and bows where everyone sang out of sync that stupid birthday song in cheerful, yet flat monotone voices. Wait a second. I never had any of those! Did I? *scratches head*

Only photographic proof could convince me now that any of those parties ever took place. I don't remember them. Nothing about them stood out enough to leave significant marks on my memory. Strange, isn't it? I might remember a party at Farrell's Ice Cream Parlour though. You know, the fire engine running the perimeter of the store and the sirens going on and on, and the bells banging, and the manical faces of the waitresses and the waiters singing their own version of the birthday song sort of like that Carl's Jr; commercial about teh 6-dollar burger and the giant trough of ice cream finally landing at our table. Or.. was that some other little kids' birthday and not mine? I honestly cannot recall.

Last year, somewhere around this time, I had to have surgery because the nail on the big toe of my left foot grows in funny. It became an ugly mess, and I had no choice but to have part of it removed in order to remedy the problem. This is something I would prefer to put out of my memory altogether, but I can't because the pain of this surgery was far too vivid and far too real, not to mention - recent. Well, I woke up this morning and discovered that I will most likely have to have surgery on my other toe. Same toe, different foot. It's throbbing as I type this ...and stinging and reddening and all those lovely things. I couldn't be more upset about the looming possibility that I will not only have to hobble around in a giant and very unnattractive post-op shoe for the remainder of August, but because of the fact that I will have to be careful not to re-injure it while it heals, and go in for nasty, painful check ups, and all that follow up crap that comes with the bottle of Vicodin. Fucking great.

It is entirely possible that my toe will be healed up and pretty like the other one is now. Sure. It is also entirely possible that my toe won't be healed in time to be able to wear the cute open-toed satin sandals and the freshly done lavender pedicure with the painted flowers and rhinestones that I was hoping to wear with my wedding gown. Closed-toed shoes. *sigh* Love having to plan around something so unpleasant and so... icky. Totally not bride-like, you know what I mean?

And, get this, as if it were scheduled by the "fuck with Lesa's program demons", Brian and I reserved space at a reputably gorgeous campsite in Yosemite for Labor Day weekend. Guess hiking is out of the question, huh? I've done everything I'm suppoed to do. Regular pedicures. Open toed shoes whenever possible. Everything!

Happy fucking Birthday.

Dammit.