I have small small feet, probably disproportionately small. Also I am fat.
Over the years I have developed small painful growths on the 5th metatarsi of both feet. Basically, where the phalanges of the baby toes meet the matatarsal bones.
Earlier this summer it came time to replace my sneakers. They were worn out and the EVA midsole was all smooshed and not so bouncy. I purchased the same exact sneakers that I had. Over the course of the summer those bumps ached every time I walked. The pressure was getting to be so much that I dreaded walking the dogs and would often whine to get out of it. I considered seeing an orthopedist, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Sometimes you just don’t have the strength to hear another person say, “well, you wouldn’t have this problem if you just made smarter choices, took better care of yourself, stopped being so impulsive with food, exercised more, ate less.” So I stuck it out, figured this was my punishment for years of bad choices and being fat. I’d never had this problem before but i’ve put on a bit of weight lately and I’m getting old.
David is more persistent than I am, also he cares and worries about me. He started investigating. He found that my new sneakers, though the same brand and style, were constructed ever so slightly differently in that particular area. The toe box support on the sides was just a fraction higher. Maybe just a couple millimeters. Such an insignificant thing. Such a tiny sliver of difference. Vasque probably did it in to provide more support in the area. That little sliver of support was not allowing my foot to break in the shoes. One little tiny area was redesigned to push inward and my foot needed it to push outward. I put my old sneakers back on and wore them all weekend.
Bliss. I could walk without pain again. I am not filled with the overwhelming urge to rip my shoes off and cry! And this is where we accept that David is far more logical than I could ever be. I’m too emotional. I’m too quick to blame myself. I’m to quick to say “live with the consequences”.
I’m pretty lucky to have David! Sadly, however, it looks like I will be trading in my much beloved Vasques for a new sneaker. Sigh.

So, I’ve not gotten a good, full night of sleep since I got out of bed last Monday. That would be the 10th. That would be a very long time ago. This is the longest I have gone without good sleep in a long long time. It makes me crazy, obsessive and crabby.
Shut up.
This morning, high on the lack of good sleep and confused as hell I took three effexor. I’m supposed to take 2. I take two 150 milligram effexor every morning and three 100 milligram welbutrin. The welbutrin are blut, the effexor are brown. This morning, I was tired. I took. I took 50% more than I should have. I took 450 milligrams. Took me a while to figure out what was going on. I figure I was loopy from lack of sleep. Then I realized that beyond the loopiness I was also completely fucking apathetic. I just did not care about anything.
Yeah. Need more sleep before I mistake the drano for horchata mix.
On the bright side, crochet projects are coming along beautifully.

1) woody allen. I have always hated woody allen movies. I can’t fucking stand them. Little irritating man whining and moaning and navel gazing over and over and over. Also, casting the women he did to play his love interests….yeah, right. hate hate hate. I don’t even care about the step daughter thing. weird, but not surprising.
2) conspiracy theorists. I hate conspiracy theorists because the the narcissism inherent in their theories. CTs come in two nutty flavors. The first is the kind that has lots of opinions and occasionally hints that if he’s not careful about what he says, the secret government agencies will assassinate him. okay first, your friends don’t think your cool because you have this secret ‘information’ that could get you assassinated, they think you’re a dork and secondly, the government has its head so far up its ass it’s completely incapable of having organizations that are that secret and efficient. If they had those secret, efficient organizations, we’d rid ourselves of terrorists, drug dealers, illegal immigrants, people who boat without a license and so on. Do you think that secret government agents are really interested in some dude in a cheap suburban subdivision? The second CT is the one that really pisses me off. These are the armchair experts. These are the people who know that the WTC didn’t fall down from the plane, but it was packed with explosives. These are the people who know why the bridge fell in minneapolis last month. These are the people that look at the aftermath of a situation from the comfort of their stinky la-z-boys and instantly they can see the evidence! Wow! It’s amazing to me that you could figure this out from your living room! You have no formal education in engineering or anything and yet from the photos and news footage YOU can see what the trained structural engineers cannot! Why waste your time in front of the Zenith, your country needs you. Go! Go on now, you could save the government billions of dollars in research money to figure out the causes of surprise catastrophes. All that saved money could be funneled into a secret government agency that could be contracted to kill your neighbor, the one who knows too much.
All things considered, my favorite WTC conspiracy has to do will all the hidden gold under the foundation. I imagine them planning the building and constructing it and when it’s all done they’re like “ho shit! we forgot to put a door in there. Fuck, how are we going to get our gold?”
“dude, you can’t just build a door now, if you want your gold you are going to have to knock the building down”
“knock the building down? hey, i know this guy that works for this secret government agency…”
Oh also, I like the dude that built a little tower out of chicken wire and put bricks on top. He doused in gasoline and started it on fire. it didn’t fall down. Proof that planes could not knock down the towers! oh yeah? well I took a bat and went to my neighbor’s house and beat the shit out of their stucco and they called the cops! See you can’t bake a cake in an oven! I just proved it.
(I really really hate conspiracy theorists)
3) snotty knitters
4a) people who bring their little kids and toddlers to the dog park and get all upset when the kid gets knocked down by a running dog or something. It’s a dog park, not a kid park. It’s the one place where dogs can run like hell and be boisterous and jump around. I’m not talking about out of control dogs, I firmly believe that your dog should be under voice control at all times, but the dogs act crazy and sometimes don’t notice the little kid stumbling around. Hell, sometimes they don’t notice the big people either, it’s not uncommon to have some lopey dog hauling ass after another and miscalculate a turn and crash into you.
4b) people who do not control their dogs at the dog park. I don’t mean the little scuffles for dominance or whatnot, those are natural and important in the dog world. To get involved in dog politics means that you are forcing yourself into a situation you don’t understand and you are not welcome by the dogs. Often, you end up messing things up worse. I mean the excessively aggressive dogs, the ones that are poorly socialized and attack other dogs, the ones that don’t understand or ignore that another dog is saying “fuck off” with his snarl. They’re a goddammed pain. Also, please teach your dog not to jump on people. I don’t need giant dirty paw prints on my shirt. As an aside, it is important to know that when you meet a dog for the first time you do not, DO NOT, immediately put your hand on top of their head to pet them. I know it seems natural to humans to do that, but to a dog you are clearly saying “I’m the boss of you now” and the is going to say “what the fuck, dilly, I have a pack, I didn’t join your pack! you are not the boss of me”. Instead, extend your hand out and allow the dog to come forward and sniff it first. This is you saying, “hello, how are you, my name is specific scent” and a dog will say “AWESOME” or “Meh, i thought you would smell like butt, im outta here”.