here they are, ice pictures, with the first 16 or so on that page from this morning. I'm not going to Greenland, National Geographic. You can beg but forget it, I want to go to Hawaii instead.
Chances are I'm not going to Hawaii any time soon, but I do get out: we are supposed to go to Hendersonville this evening to pick up my son's new car. Yes, we finally agreed on a car. It is super fancy and green and I probably am paying too much money for it but fuck it, it felt safe and easy to drive and I couldn't take another day of car hunting. I didn't even blog about the car that stalled out on me five times in ten minutes and now hopefully I can consign that particular gruesome memory to oblivion. It's a shame you can't specify which memories to keep and which to lose but drugs just never work that way, or at least the ones I take.
However! This is about Hendersonville, not drugs! What a pity! Still. I don't know if we're going to make it because a) it's snowing again, of course, see point 1, above, "We All Live In the Arctic Now" and b) my right foot has decided to be broken. I didn't do anything, I swear, to prompt this decision on the part of my foot; it made the choice all by itself without me even getting the fun of falling down or jumping around but, whatever, it's been getting worse all day and now I'm not even sure I can hobble the three blocks to the bank or my car. I have made an appointment with a doctor for the morning, which is terrifying, since I usually wait until I'm about better to give up and go to the doctor. I did go to the dermatologist week before last for some bumps on my forehead that had gone away; he confirmed that they were, indeed, gone and told me I had very fair skin. "No!" I said, looking shocked. (I didn't, actually, say this but I wanted to.)
I don't go to doctors much and the last (and only) time I went to a podiatrist was in Baltimore about 15 years ago. That podiatrist was located inside a funeral home, which I thought then and think now was a handy location in case something during the course of the removal of my plantar wart went terribly, horribly wrong. This one is apparently located next to the permanent makeup cosmetic surgery clinic, so if the foot prognosis is bad I'll just hop over and get some permanent eyeliner and maybe a face lift to cheer me up.