Ester's Feathers

Back in the saddle again.Thanksgiving came and went, I went lame, I never did discover the source of my Amityville horror flies but now I'm back.

I went to a Thanksgiving dinner with a house full of strangers and children - neither ranks high on the comfort zone - add a whopping dollop of stone sobriety - and you have me, weird and wooden. But everyone was very nice and I even found the children charming, surprising myself, but I don't think they were your garden variety. One appears to be an inventive genius at his ripe age of 8-ish, another regaled us with violin playing after the meal. I made my grandmother's sweet potato pudding, which I over-sold and, of course, it didn't come out properly. There's probably a lesson in the sin of vanity or something in there.

The day after I woke up with a sore foot, which progressed that evening to wild hot unrelenting and unrelievable pain. Funny in the retrospect, as I was sort of sleeping and waking throughout the ordeal, so it was agggggghhhhhhhh, zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz, aaaaahhhhhhhHHHHHHH, zzzzzzzzzzz (drool), and so on. My friend Mary helped with getting me a prescription for meds and procuring me a cane from Goodwill. I improve incrementally every day. Yesterday was a big fat red letter day, as I was finally able to ease my foot into a shoe without whimpering. And, so what's your malfunction, you ask? Ah, more ignobilities.......It's probably gout. I KNOW!!! All perusing of the interwebs produce pictures of fat nobility in powdered wigs. I must say, though, that I kind of enjoy the cane. As a friend said: use it to walk, and - whack! - to make a point.