Feet of Craziness

About 10 years ago, I went to a local running store called Runtex to have them tell me what type of shoe I should wear to run. I'd been getting blisters on my arches, so I knew su'mn was up. Mr. Shoe Salesman/Running Expert watched me walk and said I pronated (turned my feet in) when I walked. He sold me the right type of shoe. As I recall, the blisters went away. However, after a few more months, I developed achilles tendonitis. So, I stopped running. A few months back, I took it up again. All was going pretty well, I got up to 4.5 miles. And then, the bottom of my right foot started hurting more (it had been sore for about a year) and my left front part of the ankle started to hurt, too. I started to lose range of motion and my calves were very tight. I finally decided it was time to go to the doctor. The podiatrist diagnosed me with plantar fascitis on the right and anterior tibialis tendonitis on the left. Apparently, the pronation pretty much caused all the problems. Great, if I'd listened to Mr Shoe Salesman 10 years ago, I wouldn't be going through all of this! The podiatrist sent me to physical therapy. Now that you know the background, the real story can begin.

Earlier today, I decided it was time to stop doing this getting well business half ass. I've been going to PT for 2 weeks and sort of doing my home exercises. The healing wasn't happening fast enough and I knew part of the problem was my non-compliance. So after work I went to Runtex to buy the special anti-pronation shoes I should have bought a month ago. The nice, but distracted sales guy wasn't so bad. He didn't think my giant feet looked so giant. So sweet. I trekked down to the mall to buy the podiatrist recommended OTC inserts. Once home, I started the on-my-way-to-PT preparation. Ladies, you know when you are going to see your gynecologist- there are certain "preparations" that must occur before you get there. If you get to go home BEFORE you go- you are set. Shower, clean underwear. The works! But, if you have to go straight from work, man, you have to plan ahead! Clean underwear in your purse and some sort of cleansing cloth/baby wipes. Thorough wipe down in the work bathroom if the doc is close by or thorough wipe down at his office if the drive is too far. You may never have body odor and never have that not-so-fresh-feeling, but you have this sense that on the drive over- your crotch will start to grow some sort of mildew or fungus.With my PT preparation, I wash my feet, change my socks, and put on different shoes. Today, I trimmed up my new inserts, put them into my expensive ass shoes, and put on my clean socks. I strutted around the house in them, feeling quite secure and properly aligned. I noticed that my legs were pretty hairy, so I did a quick dry shave. Bad idea since my legs were lizard skin dry. But, I had to shave. The PT is down there all up in my foot business, so I have to be fresh and clean. The last thing I want, is to be "that patient." The stinky foot cheese hairy leg patient. Yea, I know most of their patients probably have reeking feet, but I wanted to be the exception. When Gerta thinks back about me 8 years from now, I want her to remember me fondly. That cute, big footed chick who smelled like Bath and Body Works. On my drive to see Gerta I had a sudden realization, "oh friggin' no. I forgot to wash my feet." No turning around to go home, I'd be late. Could stop at CVS. Nahh. Too much Christmas stuff on sale I'd want to buy. I decided I'd get to the PT office and go into the restroom and do a quick wash. But, I wasn't sure I'd be able to get into a one holer. The multi-stall bathrooms would be quite tricky. Yea, I could wash in the sink, but the chances of another person entering the bathroom was pretty high. And, with my foot hiked up into the sink, I'd look pretty ridiculous. As I pondered my predicament, I remembered, "hey, I've go hand sanitizer. Hand santizer cleans stuff." Therefore, I removed my shoes and clean socks, slathered on sanitizer, and massaged it into my feet. I wiped it off with the gym towel I had lying in my passenger seat. When I strolled through the office building and into the PT office, I felt fresh and anew. I was ready for Gerta and her 6 foot frame. When I saw her standing there with her elastic waisted khaki slacks, pulled up high on her waist, polo shirt tucked in, broad shoulders, and thick manly thighs- I was ready. I was finally ready to be compliant. I was ready to be putty in her thick meaty paws. Massage away Gerta. Stretch away Gerta. My feet smell nice, my shoes align my bones, my inserts support my arch. I'm ready Gerta. Get to it.

Technology is Shrinking my Brain

Has anyone else noticed that they cannot remember anything anymore? Peers, older friends, young whipper snappers (will need to look up the origin of that later) noticed any changes over the past few years? In addition to having "mommy brain," I think I discovered another reason why I can't remember jack anymore. We don't have to remember anything anymore. Within seconds of something memorable occuring, we can text it, photograph it, post it, or call someone to report it. Remember in olden times (1996) when something happened to you, you had to wait until you got home to call someone- on your land line?. All day long you'd have to continually remind your self of the situation (no, not the Jersey Shore dude. Ahhh, remember those wonderful olden times when crap like that did not exist??) so you would not forget. Remember when you'd have to wait on the pictures to be developed to show such awesomeness as thong man on Lady Bird Lake (haven't seen him personally, but I've heard a lot about him. I am sure he has super tan, leathery buttocks like Leslie Cochran, which I've seen up close. Nayyyastaaayyy!). You'd have to prep your friends with lines like, "dude you will not BELIEVE what I saw in Austin. I can't WAIT until the pictures come in the mail!" When you met someone special, got their phone number on a napkin, and shoved it in your back pocket- you'd have to remember to take it out before you washed. Have you thought about whether the link to your soul mate disintegrated in Tide soup in your water guzzling, energy inefficient washing machine? Are you absolutely positive that you married the right person? What if your destiny was actually to end up with Joe Bob Billy Tom Dean? Ponder that for a moment. Now, rather than remember to take the napkin out of your pocket, when that tight Wrangler, massively starched shirt wearing tall drink of water approached, you could instantly whip out your phone, enter the numbers (listed as "Cowboy Hottie"), and promise to call. So, please be patient with us in the age of instantaneosity. Our brains are withering as technology advances further and further, so take it easy on us.

Another reason not to drive distracted

There are numerous reasons not to drive distracted. Most importantly is not to kill yourself or others. It would be unfair to your family to go and get 'urself kilt by participating in an activity that could wait. And imagine how you'd feel if killed someone else doing something stupid? Really, only damage and destruction can result in distracted driving. With that said, I must admit that I take part in this. However, since I have become keenly aware of it, I have started making the conscious effort not to do anything other than drive. I still talk on the cell phone while I drive, but I think I'm going to take the Oprah challenge and stop. As women, we pretty much do anything Oprah says anyway, right? What I have stopped doing is putting on my makeup when I drive. I didn't do it while the kids were in the car. Of course, why did I think it was ok to make my kids safer by being a better driver but no one else's? Great logic. I justified the makeup application by never taking my eyes off the road. I was like those that say "I drive better when I'm drunk. I pay more attention." I could rummage through my cosmetics bag and find everything I needed by touch. I could curl my eyelashes and apply mascara without wavering my view from the road. I had become quite the makeup artist on my drive to work. And, on top of that, I saved about a whole 10 minutes by doing it in the car and not at home. I'd like to say that my guilt about being an unsafe driver prompted me to stop. I'd like to say that as a responsible Texas driver, I stopped to become a better defensive driver. But, of course, that was not the case. I had to stop because my blush application started to look a little wild. Too many times at work I'd attend meetings and check my makeup once I got upstairs into the locker only to find that I looked like a drag queen. My blush was so dark (and usually only on one side) that I looked like I was on my way to Charlie's for a show. Some days I had evenly dark blush on each side and I looked like Kim Kardashian had applied it for me. Some days it looked like someone punched me in the cheekbones. Other times, the apples of my cheeks glowed like Shirley Temple's. I wonder what my coworkers thought when they saw me. Amanda looks like a Mary Kay nightmare. Amanda's getting her crazy on. So, Texas, your world is a safer place now that I will apply makeup at home.

The Bestest Cookies

I made these for my mom's birthday today. They rival "Mike the Cookie Man" from work. They are so good that I can't even stand it.

Mrs. Field's Cranberry White Chocolate Chip Cookies
1 Cup (2 sticks) butter, softened

1½ Cups light brown sugar
¼ Cup granulated sugar
2 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2¾ Cups all-purpose flour
1 Cup rolled oats
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
¾ teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon
1½ Cups chopped dried cranberries
1 Cup chopped walnuts
¾ Cup white chocolate chips

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
2. In a large mixing bowl, cream together the butter, sugars, eggs and vanilla with an electric mixer on high speed.
3. In another bowl, mix together the flour, oats, baking powder, baking soda, salt and cinnamon.
4. Stir the dry ingredients into the wet stuff until blended. Stir in cranberries, walnuts and white chocolate.
5. Spoon ¼ Cup portions 2 inches apart onto a non-stick surface (parchment paper, Silpat or Release foil) on a baking sheet. Bake for 13 to 15 minutes or until edges of cookies are just beginning to brown. I check them after 13 minutes to see if they are a little brown. Cookies will still be soft in the center and not look done, but take them out JUST as the edges brown a little. Allow cookies to sit for at least 5 minutes before removing and placing on cooling rack.

Living Will for my Hair

I was pondering what would happen to me if I became incapacitated and how my family would deal with my basic personal care. It is odd to think about who (other than yourself) you would want bathing you, wiping your “area,” plucking your eyebrows, trimming your toenails, and waxing/bleaching your mustache. I feel pretty confident that most people in my family could handle any of the described. Mom and Candace have been formally trained in the bathing and personal care of bedridden people. The rest of my family could help deal with the basic care, as most perform some sort of personal hygiene (on at least an every other day basis). What does concern me most about my personal care and who could do it- is the care of my hair. The thought of that task going to someone else causes some anxiety for me. And, I feel sorry for those that may be charged with that task. Therefore, I feel compelled to write down the steps for its care. I will address the care of my hair if I am incapacitated, but still alive AND how to fix it in the event of my passing. The last thing I want people to see when I am in a coffin is some ratty, crazy hair. Not what you really want to be thinking about at age 35, but imagine if you were the person at the funeral home fixing my hair. Wouldn’t you like some sort of instruction on what makes it look best?




In the event of temporary incapacitation where I am either unable to use my arms or intubated, sedated, and lying in the ICU, here are your instructions.

1. As soon as possible after admission or my incapacitation, work with the nurses and let them know you MUST wash my hair. I have never used the no rinse shampoo, so you need to get creative to actually wet my hair and shampoo it.

a. Though you will be upset about my health, you have to know that if you do not take care of this within the first couple of days- my hair will become a big matted mess of hair.

2. Using a WIDE TOOTH COMB and while my hair is WET- start brushing out the tangles

a. You will be amazed at how tangled it is.

b. Start at the bottom of my hair and brush out tangles. Proceed on up the scalp.

3. Brush the hair straight, while still WET, and put it in a ponytail holder. Braid the ponytail.

a. If you take the time to brush it out straight and braid it- the next time you need to wash my hair there will be about 95% less tangles for you.

4. If you are absolutely unable to wash my hair with water- you still need to address the hair during the same timeframe

a. Use a spray bottle with water and wet the hair in sections and brush the tangles out of each section.

b. After all the tangles are out, wet is a thoroughly as possible and follow step 3 above.

5. If I was rendered helpless for days before you found me, yet I survived, my hair will probably already be in the super matted state.

a. After attempting to brush the tangles out, if you find that it is an impossible job- I know that you will have to cut it all off. I will be sad about it when I wake up, but I will understand.



If I am permanently unable to care for my hair or if I die, I want you (or the funeral home person) to know how to make it look the best. I prefer you not pull it up and braid it everyday. On some occasions, I would like for you to “fix it up real purty.” It is easy for my hair to look like a hot mess, so hopefully this will be a good guide for you.

1. The best way to brush my hair out, is in the shower. After washing it with a decent shampoo (I prefer Aveda, but over the counter will do as long as it is not too cheap. Nothing moisturizing, though. The curls won’t work if the hair’s too soft), apply a lot of conditioner. About the palm of your hand.

2. Using the wide tooth comb, brush it out as described above.

3. Rinse thoroughly

4. Gather the hair in sections in the palm of your hand and squeeze it gently up the scalp, gathering (scrunching) it up the scalp. Squeeze out as much water at possible.

5. Using the towel, gently squeeze the excess water out as described above.

6. DO NOT put a brush or comb to the hair after rinsing.

7. Apply Aveda Phomollient mousse (yes, it’s expensive, but it works) in sections using the scrunching method. Make sure all sections of hair get moussed, or it will be frizzy.

a. The trick here is to be gentle with the hair, otherwise you will break up the curls. Don’t flounce it around or stick your fingers up in the hair and shake it around. Hairstylists do this and it really messes it up!

8. Using a hair dryer with a diffuser (key ingredient here), scrunch the hair gently up in sections and direct the air into your hand.

a. Do this on all sections. Be extra gentle with the hair on the top of the head near the scalp. Messing around too much with it will make it get frizzed.

b. If parts start to look frizzy, apply some hairspray to those parts to keep the frizz from magnifying.

c. After the hair is almost all the way dry, if the dryer has a cold air function, do that all over the hair. At this point, you don’t have to scrunch anymore, but don’t let the dryer blow the hair all over the place. The diffuser should prevent it, but sometimes people go a little nuts.

9. Apply hair spray as needed to frizzy spots.

10. After an hour or so, check back on the hair. After it has rested for a while, it sometimes draws up some more and some frizz appears. May need a little more hairspray.

11. If the funeral home is doing this, they need to follow the steps as much as possible so I look nice.

12. That is all there is to it.



Yea, it’s a weird instruction manual, but it’s necessary. It will be a part of my living will someday.

Blog Written By Ray Dec 2009

I have never claimed to be some sort of tough guy. I would like to think that I could take care of myself if it came down to it. I have never been afraid of people or things as long as the sun was up or a light was on. Let me tell you about me being scared. Darkness has never been a close and personal friend of mine. My imagination runs rampant when the lights go out. So when my 2 1/2 year old woke up at 115 this morning screaming for her mother, I was concerned. She will usually lay in bed and cry at times but she is still asleep. My daughter will usually settle down and stop hollering just after a couple of minutes. But, this time rather than going back to sleep she said "don't touch me and leave me alone" and screamed in terror. Upon hearing these words, I just FREAKED! The hands of time instantaneously turned back about 25 years. So there I lay, a 6'1" 245 pound 10 year old with my mind just spinning out of control. I remember seeing all of the horror movies as a kid. All of the spookies and creepy crawlies and things that had no business in my sight or in my mind were making there long absence known. I asked my wife if she wanted to get my daughter and bring her into the bed with us. She said no and got up to check on my daughter. Well my wife got her to calm down and got her settled back in. She told me that my daughter was running a fever and was probably in a lot of pain. I thought all was well but there came the screams again and my wife brought her into our room. She asked if I wanted to go to the other room to get some sleep. I assumed that it was just because my wife does worry about our children when it comes to sickness and this was a way for her to monitor my daughter's breathing patterns while sleeping and make sure that she is OK. I did go to the other room and she slept with my daughter in our bed. I lay there until about 4 am because I am who I am- unable to go back to sleep for the fear of what she saw in her room! The working part of me wishing to fall asleep, the dad part of me wanting to go into my daughter's room and investigate, and the little boy part of me just laying there staring at the ceiling worrying about every little noise that I heard. As though I was not scared enough last night- my wife just called me and told me another detail that was left out of our conversation in the wee hours of the morning (she said she did not want to tell me at the time because she knew I would be scared. The second or third time my wife got up and went into our daughter's room, she said Tanner was in the corner of her bed sitting there crying and pointing to the opposite end of the bed. She mentioned something about that thing bothering her. So all of the screams that I thought were just bad dreams now have a new definition. I am getting goose bumps just thinking about it. If anyone drives past my house tonight, every light in the house will be on. Yea, like I am going to be able to go to sleep. Especially if my wife goes to work. I am such a chicken.