Crutch Attire

What, you ask, especially if you're a 'virgin crutcher," do you wear with your new walking aids?

The Fairy Blogmother now has first-hand experience with that very question, and has these suggestions. Choose one, two, or as many as you find comfortable.

1. Sweatpants, capris or any such pants that will fit over a casted foot. Those with elastic waistbands are easy to slip on and off, though less fashionable. Color is up to you, but white will show spills, and black will show lint and hair of the dog/cat. Remember, if you have stairs, you will be taking them on your hindside.

2. That tacky touristy fanny pack is most useful for carrying pill bottles and pens and paper. (Everyone must have an old one of these hanging around.) Your hands will be busy with the crutch handgrips.

3. A cord with a whistle attached is most useful for getting family and friends' attention at a moments' notice. Who can resist the call of the wild one?

4. Add to the cord or add a chain with eyeglasses if being nearsightednes or farsightedness is a problem. Color coordination is not required at this time, as you probably won't care.

5. A multi-pocketed vest is a wonderful addition to the outfit as it holds all those items you regularly tote around and allows you to be a "hands-free zone."

6. A slide-on shoe for the foot NOT in the cast is nice, just make certain it isn't the same type of footwear you were wearing when you met the ground during your crippling incident. That is asking for trouble and could be considered masochistic. Note: It does not have to match the ugly blue boot-like covering you will be given (and charged big-time for) by the doctor.

7. Consider toenail polish for entertaining viewing of your toes.

8. For those speedy trips to the bathroom when the balancing act is most precarious, I mean try lowering yourself on the toilet while keeping one foot in the air, I can suggest "commando-style. (no underwear) It works, it's fast and easy, and hey, you probably won't be the one who is going to have to do all that wash right away anyway. Refrain from skirt wearing if you choose #8.

I welcome any other suggestions from readers, especially those who are members of the crutch club. I wonder if I can do a guest stint on 'Martha's' show to model and speak????

What a sense of humor

After creation and the day of rest, I imagine God was looking for a bit of fun. Man must provide immeasurable hours of entertainment for Herself and the gallery packed in the heavens above as mere mortals travail the perils of the earthly kingdom. Ah-- the broken bone and how to deal with it. What a wickedly funny requirement as a consequence for being clumsy and falling, the necessity of walking on not two legs, but one for six weeks.

The Fairy Blogmother's experience on crutches/walker/wheelchair has allowed her look at things from quite a different perspective. In fact, I've now spent exactly seven days staring at my left toenails as I've been told to keep the left foot at a level with my nose. Almost sounds impossible if not downright disgusting, doesn't it?

The toes, I was told, must wiggle and remain pinkish through the yellow brusing. I guess this means they should be the color of the sky at twilight on a summer day? Those five toes and their attached foot must NOT for an instant touch solid for at least three weeks, and the punishment for any infraction is an extendended period of toe observation and the accompanying requisite balancing act.

But in addition to the this self-absorption time, I have time to observe the kindness, creativity, as well as the idiosyncracies of others. A great passive time and I'm loving it. I feel like I'm a cross between an infant and adolescent again, and this time, I'm going to enjoy both stages. But not enough to let the foot touch the floor for two more weeks.

Twisted: Tongue and Ankle

"Slip-on velcro sandals meet slightly slick, sludgy slope, with a slide, a slip, and a slump."
Say it seven times, but don't try to reenact this tongue twister.

Yes, it's a double twist. The Fairy Blogmother fell down a hill this morning during her daily dog walk, and has discovered a new and more humbling experience than the 'morning scoop' -- the broken ankle, and it brings dependence with a capital "D."

When first I tried to pick myself up, I discovered I might have to remain on a muddy field with a dog licking my face for some time. But on second thought, I decided to seek another course of action, and managed to roll over onto my knees and push up. It wasn't too graceful, but it worked. Thank heavens for the recent weeks in the weight room at the gym. Not only were the exercises trimming the tush, but strengthening the arm muscles as well. I hobbled my way home with a gait reminiscent of William H. Macy in "The Cooler," and threw myself onto the sofa.

Well, I tried the usual denial route, but that only works under pain for just so long. With ice on the ankle, I managed to keep the swelling down to the size of a tennis ball for the first half hour. Then I had to admit to myself that whether it was a sprain or a break, a trip to the ER was in my immediate future. And having read the NY Times article on the sad state of waiting for medical care, I urged my spouse to take the trip earlier rather than later, when the hospital would be full of crying children. (Not his favorite.)

At the local hospital, it was my grand fortune to find an empty waiting room, a nurse with a bizarre sense of humor (my personal favorite), and a wheel chair, and all within five minutes of my entrance. Data, and blood pressure taken, new nametag bracelet on wrist, I was wisked to X-ray within ten minutes. Pictures taken and wheeled to my private room, I met with a PA who was happy to show me my foot photos and explain my break. He, too, had a good sense of humor, and was delighted to explain that my next six weeks would require rest, reading, and people waiting on me. How great is that! Of course, none of this was in my plans, but when handed a break, I say, make the best of it. And just think of the opportunity it gives family and close friends. They'll learn new skills and enjoy the morning scoop as well, and they'll be able to return some of the favors bestowed upon them by this Fairy Blogmother.

An act of kindness

I received an email from a friend who thought I might be interested in a project. And it was such a 'feel good' thing, I feel compelled to share it with whoever out there who might read the Fairy Blogmother's blog.

Sometimes when you help someone else, you help yourself even more. And the price of the assistance is simply that of a baby blanket for a child who might never have one. A quick trip to the baby department when you're in a mall shopping will do it.

Think about the blanket that you held and dragged around as a small child. Were you in agony on laundry days when it disappeared? Wasn't its feel important to you? My own children saved a piece of their own baby blankets for years. I remember sending my son to middle school with a piece of the blanket binding tucked into his pocket, just for security. Consider your gift of a baby blanket to a child in , and mail your purchase to make a difference in someone's life. A child will know that someone cared. Read on:


A few months ago I was having dinner with my good friend Sid Mohn, president of HEARTLAND ALLIANCE, who had just returned from a missionary trip from Guatemala. He shared with me the story of newborn babies being wrapped in newspaper to be brought home from the hospital.
I immediately felt that through my network of wonderful friends, I could help these women and their children, so I launched the "Baby Blanket Project".
My goal is to collect 1,000 small, lightweight blankets to bring to Guatemala the first week in February, when I will be joining the Heartland Alliance group on a missionary trip to visit the hospitals and orphanages in the impoverished villages. Our goal is to ensure that all babies delivered at the hospitals are sent home wrapped in cloth and not in newspaper and to provide dignity to families and communities who were victimized by both violence and poverty.
Heartland Alliance is a 100 year-old service based human right organization providing paths from harm to hope for the most poor and vulnerable.
Heartland has had a health partnership with a hospital in the highlands of Guatemala for the past five years. During the civil conflict in Guatemala during the 80's and 90's, a significant number of the population in the highlands were tortured or saw family members killed.
Heartland is assisting the medical staff in integrating mental health therapies into their health care practices for treating individuals with post traumatic stress disorder. With such extreme poverty in the highlands, families and hospitals often lack the financial resources to purchase blankets for the newborn infants. The "Baby Blanket Project"
will offer free blankets that have been donated, so that the littlest children of the world will have the warmth and comfort that a soft blanket can bring.
I will be collecting lightweight blankets through the end of 2005 to bring to Guatemala on our trip in February, 2006. If you can donate a new or gently used baby blanket for this cause, please send them to me at the following addresses:
BEFORE SEPTEMBER 25th :
Keek Lee
"BABY BLANKET PROJECT"
16152 First Lane
PO Box 512
Union Pier, MI 49129

AFTER SEPTEMBER 25th :
Keek Lee
"BABY BLANKET PROJECT"
545 Spring Lane
Wyndmoor, PA 19038
Please feel free to pass this message on to all of your friends and co-workers !!!!
Thank you all for supporting this worthy project for the babies of Guatemala. I am grateful for your friendship and wonderful generosity.
Fondly,
Keek

Status Quo or Status Go?

To go or not to go. That is THE question. If you're miserable in a relationship, the lack of one, your job, your town, your house, etc..... you've answered the question. GO! Change is in your future. Ah, but change is uncomfortable. Why else do so many of us make the same mistake over and over? Why the familiar path is much more comfortable as we already know where it comes out. No surprises. Outcome guaranteed. But if the outcome is a constant state of unhappiness, isn't it time to move on?

Give it a try. Do some homework first. Examine your positives and put them in stars. Be honest about the negatives of change, but don't give them more attention than they deserve. For each negative in your column, list an alternative or way to turn it around to a positive.
Talk to yourself. When were you last happy? Did you have a dream you gave up for a more practical route? Are you willing to step back and take some baby steps to get where you want to be? Where do you really want to be? Advice, who knows you better than you? No one.

Perhaps David Lee Roth of Van Halen said it best: "Go ahead and jump."

My kind of town

TRIE-SUR-BAISE, France - Yohann and Olivier Roussel's performance climaxed in a cacophony of oinks and grunts, unleashing an explosion of applause. But it was only after lengthy jury deliberations that their hopes were confirmed — the father-and-son team were France's official Pig-Squealing Champions for 2005.

The judges, headed by a former champion, had been impressed by their vocal imitations of pigs in all four of the required categories, reflecting key milestones of porcine existence: from noisy farmyard birth to death under the knife, via suckling and — inevitably — mating.
France's handful of "fetes folles," or crazy festivals, attract a regular cult following and throngs of incredulous holidaymakers. One fete features an acclaimed lying contest; another boasts a distance spitting competition.
But the annual Pig Festival and French Pig-Squealing Championships in Trie-sur-Baise, a remote farming village in the foothills of the Pyrenees, are acknowledged to be in a class of their own.

Stepping up to the microphone in hastily improvised pig outfits — the decision to enter the competition had been taken only the night before — the Roussels let rip with a chorus of uncannily realistic squeals, grunts and snuffles before the 500-strong audience, topped with a delicately choreographed courtship scene.

Newcomers to the contest from nearby Pouy-Loubrin, they beat off six other finalists including regular contender Jean-Paul Louge. But the pair modestly downplayed their win as they waited to collect first prize: a whole pig, butchered and cured with traditional local methods.
"We still have work to do to perfect the pig act," said Olivier, 40, his 20-year-old son Yohann nodding agreement. "But after that, who knows? Why not try some other animals?"
Louge, who placed sixth, was equally gracious in defeat, stressing that the contest was just a bit of fun. "I don't train for this," he said. "It comes naturally."

Contestants and spectators travel to the Pig Festival from across the country and beyond; in past years, its antics have also been witnessed by television viewers in countries from Germany to Korea.
"You are Entering Pig Country," road signs advise motorists on the main approaches to the village, home to 1,100 people.
For most of the year, however, that's just a sad anachronism. Once the region's economic backbone, pig farming has industrialized, globalized and moved elsewhere. The old pig market, one of France's largest with up to 7,500 animals sold daily until the decline took root in the late 1970s, now stands silent.
But one Sunday every August, this corner of France's deep south becomes the heart of Pig Country once again. Bunting and pig-themed posters adorn trees and roadsides. Local waitresses all sport pig tails — and not the kind you wear on your head.
"The Pig Festival came about to stop us forgetting about our past," said Jean-Claude Theze, an ex-farmer who now runs one of the cafes in Trie-sur-Baise.
The village offers as good a symbol as any of modern France's agricultural underbelly and the fierce struggle waged by its rural communities to hold onto identities and livelihoods.
Faced with a collapse in pork prices, some farmers have moved into beef and higher-value black pigs, which can't be produced so intensively. Tourism has also become an important earner.
The villagers are not letting the championship's global exposure go to their heads, Theze said.
"We know it's being held up to ridicule," he said. "We take it all as a joke. It's about spreading a bit of happiness, that's all — we just hope people might come back another day."
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Inspiration

Most days, the Fairy Blogmother's inspiration comes during her daily walk with the Fairy dog, Lucy. This pooch happens to be the cutest chocolate labrador retriever you've ever seen. She is most demanding about her morning walk, so we're on a wooded path that skirts the grounds of a private boarding school usually by 7:00 AM. shine or rain. This walk also proves to keep both human and canine very grounded and entertained. I find it also to be very humbling to begin each day by scooping poop. Lucy it seems, considers her morning dump both a ritual and a gift to a much loved master. She sniffs the ground for fun.

This morning we met a friend and her dog Rosie, a springer spaniel who prefers solitude to a romp with another dog. The brown velvet dog did what dogs of her breed usually do upon meeting another canine. She slipped under a fence to offer the official dog greeting: a jump, a wag,a prance and then she proceeded to smell Rosie's rear section. Dogs usually do this - it's a known fact. But Rosie wasn't a fan of the butt sniff, and reacted rather sternly with a growl, teeth baring, and chasing attack. Lucy immediately understood her actions were not appreciated and once rebuffed, she retreated to sniffing the ground, not intending to play for the rest of the walk.

And what do I think we humans can learn from this brief adventure? Why it's simple:
1. Know your audience before your performance.
2. Don't stick your nose into someone else's business.
3. If you over-react to someone advances, don't expect them to come around to you anytime soon.

Check out the hundred hunks

http://uk.news.yahoo.com/promo/100hunks/9.html

The Fairy Blogmother has found an interesting site for women of all ages to peruse. Someone has gathered for you pictures of what he or she thinks are the 100 most appealing men, and has included some acerbic comments about each. How nice to see men on the catwalk. No swimsuits, but interesting viewing.

But remember, the outside packaging can be deceiving sometimes. It's what's inside the box that's far more important than the paper and bow.

The Path of the Pit

The Fairy Blogmother is on a roll this week. I guess that 's how it is with the creative juices; when they begin to flow get out the keyboard and go with it.

A friend just told me that she spent a great deal of time with an ache in the pit of her stomach from worrying about things. Most of these "things" she felt were situations for which she had no control. Some such issues, she said, were: finding a soul mate and the perfect job, a cure for the common cold, the weather, and an end of her friend's meddling. You can try to solve some of the above, but not to perfection. On that we both agreed. Acknowledge that fact, and you're halfway to settling the stomach pains.

But there is a secondary effect of the angst. I suggested to her my theory that the pain in the pit of her stomach seems to travel as if by magic through the body and up to the face where it expresses itself in a wild-eyed look of fear and/or anger, and the lips form into either a frown or narrow into a severe slit. And this, of course is immediately read by anyone nearby as a danger sign which screams: GET AWAY FROM ME! Body language, the experts tell us is more easily read and calculated than the spoken word. And that truly alienates you from the support you need from other people in stressful times. One of lifes's miserable truths.

My thoughts on the matter are these:
-Don't try to control other people or situations that include other people. You can't.
-Needless worry is bad for you. In fact, I'll bet it even puts weight on your hips.
-Learn to accept things and laugh at life's funny ironies and you'll probably be happier.
-The best things in life happen when you least expect them, so you can't prepare for them, but you should be ready to accept them.
-Enjoy all of the little gifts life has to offer, and express your thanks with a smile.

Alcohol Affected Stages at Singles Bars

As a Fairy Blogmother, I see it as my duty to sometimes offer some provocative thoughts which a less discerning reader might regard as advice. But I take my job seriously and it’s both some thought provoking questions and advice I need to offer today. Indulge me, if I remember correctly from my own youth, it is sometimes easier to listen to someone who isn’t your parent, but has traveled ‘the route’ already.

Recent news stories have saddened me, and I feel I must speak out about the dangers of alcohol taken in excess. I know, you’ve heard it before from parents, teachers, counselors, in print, by ear and on film, blah, blah, blah. But listen one more time, please. I won’t be repeating what you’ve heard untold times before, I hope. And for the record, I’m not a teetotaler. Even now I can tell you that a 5 oz glass of wine will cost you 3 Weight Watcher points.

I’ll ask the questions, you make the call. Did the disappearance of recent high school grad, Natalee Holloway and recent newly-wed, George Smith IV shock you a bit?

Was it the excess alcohol use that led to the tragic disappearance of these two young people on the threshold of a wonderfully exciting life?

Where were their friends and spouse? Might they, too have been in a similar state of self-induced stupor, too impaired to help? Are their companions victims as well--- forever feeling survivors’ guilt? Do these questions repeat in their minds as if they were an internal memory CD stuck in the same place? “If only I had…..” “It might have been me….” and similar thoughts surface as perpetual nightmares?

Excess intake of alcohol does more than add empty calories, weight gain, accidents, and possible alcoholic poisoning. It makes you a target of any predator looking for an easy mark. And that would be YOU if you drink to excess.

I have composed for you a progression of behaviors many drinkers experience on the barstool while sipping their ‘Mudslides” and “Bud’s”. Read through them, and see if you have found yourself at any of these steps on the continuum.

Mellow
Light-headed
Chatty
Ebullient
Footloose / fancy free
Silly
All- knowing
Posturing as a sultry vixen (Females most often)
Swaggering as if in testosterone overload (Males most likely)
Slurring speech
Sloppy gait
Sullen
Dizzy
Booting (ugh!)
Wipe out
Neverland


And now for the advice… Along with a designated driver for your drinking nights, get yourself a “designated independent non- drinking assessor,” or in the modern parlance, a DINDA.

Your DINDA should be an honest person with a strong arm. It is he or she who will assess your behavior and tell you when you must call it a night. And hopefully his/her judgment is as sound as your friendship and said person will not allow you to pass below the first stage on the above list. Or if nothing else the DINDA will be there to be aware and to keep a sober eye out for dangerous situations and people.

With your DINDA in place, if you have to ask: “What did I do last night?” you won’t have to say it with as much trepidation. Or go to Plan B: Don’t drink at all.

Procrastination

The Fairy Blogmother knows lots about procrastination, and you know she does. The last posting at this blog was in December of 2004. If that's not proof of a master procrastinator, I don't know what is.

I'm an old hand at this bad habit. At the age of 11, I remember spending hours on a high wooden raft on the South River near Annapolis Maryland watching other vacationers doing fancy dives and cannonball jumps into the water below. And me? I stood fearfully by the edge of the 12 foot high wooden structure trying to summon the courage to take my first jump. And jump I did, finally. But not without the help of my 70 year old grandfather who could no longer watch me in agony. Would I have made the move without his gentle push? Maybe later that week, or maybe not even during that summer vacation at all. And how did I thank this man for his help in making my time at the beach so much fun? I didn't speak to him for days. We made peace finally, and I realize how grateful I should have been for his help. Sometimes it takes another to help us out of our pattern of procrastination and the widom to know when we need help.


And where does this awful habit come from? Do we hesitate to act because we are lazy, bored, overworked? I think not. I believe we take these action pauses due to fear. We try to be perfect and fear that we won't be. So often we do nothing.

My message today is to move ahead. Take action. If you've been holding back it's time to move on. Write that blog, Say hello to that guy next door. Call that old friend. Ask the boss for a change in your duties or raise in pay. Or jump off that raft. You can swim, can't you?