So, we had a fantastic weekend – a flight to Oakland (somewhat delayed due to the fact that they held the plane for about 40 minutes for ONE GUY), a late evening shooting the breeze with Simon, a yummy breakfast and a day of exploring the Maker Faire. I hobbled my gimpy best around the San Mateo Fairgrounds looking at art installations and people riding around in mutant vehicles and overpriced food and a room full of people selling handmade treasures (I wanted to buy one of everything) and a giant mousetrap (as in, a giant version of the game Mousetrap) complete with women dressed as sexy mice, dancing sensually with cheese, a plethora of steampunkers (who were by far the most impressive dressed-up-in-costume group), and everyone in a seemingly good mood.
My mood was mostly good, since I was spending a day with three very lovely people who were kind enough not to make too much fun of me for my weird ambulation. The not good part was that my leg hurt like a motherbitch all day, and it got worse as the day went on. I’m a very active person and it’s both difficult and humbling to be forced to THINK about how I can walk in order to minimize pain and discomfort. The few times I forgot, I paid dearly for it. The Maker Faire was decidedly lacking in places to sit, which I found to be rather unfortunate.
Eventually, we were finished making the rounds, having seen just about everything we’d wanted to see and being unwilling to wait around for evening performances, so we left the Faire and drove into the city for a bite to eat and a bit of relaxation. We ended up in a cafe in West Portal where everyone got something they felt like eating and we felt no pressure to leave, though they did have the dirtiest bathroom I’d seen in a while (dirtier than some of the porta potties at the Faire, actually). We were waiting around without much to do because Simon had an errand that needed to be run at a particular time – or so Leah thought – and it made more sense for us to just stay in the city until that point in time. After our late afternoon repast, we went over to Dolores Park and enjoyed the small amount of sun that was left, braving the wind and the crowds of hipsters and the women selling magic brownies. Dan entertained us with a story after I told Leah and Simon that he’ll sometimes make up stories for me if I give him a few elements to work with – Simon requested a story about a coconut, hair clippings, and the Eiffel Tower. It wasn’t one of his best efforts, but it was certainly fun to hear him work those things into a plausible story.
We drove around some more, ending up in the Marina (I think) and waiting 15 minutes in the car for Simon to run his “errand”, holding in my excitement for the upcoming festivities. We headed back to the East Bay, to Leah and Simon’s house, and she didn’t figure out anything was amiss until we actually got there and she saw a bunch of cars on the street and the blinds shut. But the surprise worked anyway and I think she had a good time. I know I did, despite my aching leg. I got to see Sara and Ron and I got to meet Holly Burns of Nothing But Bonfires, one of my longtime blog crushes, and her boyfriend Sean. The party was an international theme costume party, and the best thing I could come up with on such short notice was my Canada t-shirt. (It was also much easier to pack than a more elaborate costume would have been). The food was delicious, the company was excellent, and a great time was had by all. By about midnight I was thoroughly exhausted and my leg was considerably swollen so I went to bed.
Sunday was a relaxing day. We got up and showered and headed over to Alameda (“nuclear wessels!”) to eat breakfast at this huge coffeeshop warehouse thing, where we still had to wait a good long while to get a table. The food was good, the company was better, and we went back to Chez Agirlandaboy and relaxed a while more. Eventually we made it over to my sister’s place (thanks again for the ride, guys!) and spent an afternoon hanging out with my sister and her fiance and my mom. Our trip to and through the airport was fine, the flight was fine, but the bag that we’d checked (brand new, a wedding gift) came out the other side looking like it had been stomped and gnawed on by a t-rex. One of the handles was almost completely torn off and you could see my bathing suit inside through some of the outer fabric, it was that worn through. The person at the Southwest luggage area just pulled out a new bag and gave it to us. It wasn’t nearly as nice as our bag (and obviously doesn’t match) but at that point I was too tired and hurty to care that much. I think Dan felt a little more strongly than I did about it.
So the birthday surprise was a success, which made me really happy. I was so glad we were able to come out and spend time with Leah and Simon and help bring the party to fruition; we provided a good excuse for many of the logisitcal details that needed to be worked out. I hope someday Leah forgives us for our role in the surprise. I got a little nervous when she said “Simon knows how much I hate surprises” while we were waiting for him.
I spent yesterday on the couch all day bored out of my skull. I kept the first 3 Star Wars movies (eps 1-3) on for background noise, attempted to get the internet to work (and only succeeded for about five minutes), finished a book, started another, and went outside in the sun for a little while with my leg up on a chair. I have to say that at this point, I’m pretty well tired of taking advil (as is my digestive system). This morning, I had a doctor’s appointment, which entailed me essentially spending $30 to hear “Yep, you have a torn calf muscle. Here’s a referral to a physical therapist.” I called right away – their earliest appointment is for the 14th of May. A week from tomorrow. Guess I’ll spend another week doing what I’ve been doing and hoping I’m doing things right. From what I’ve read in googling around the internets, this puppy is going to take a few months to heal. I’d rather have it heal right and be able to exercise again sooner rather than do something wrong and be miserable for even longer.
Also, if anyone out there in blogland is considering tearing a calf muscle, I’m going to have to recommend against it. Right now the back of my leg looks like someone took a baseball bat to it. Gross.