The Dancing Queens

I’ve already warned everyone around me, (which my girlfriends are greatly anticipating) that when this thing passes and my leg is back to its tip top form, I’m definitely going dancing. I dare anyone to tell me otherwise. I have done my fair share this year thus far and had a lot more nights out planned, prior to my accident.  So I will sit and wait patiently, silently plodding all the places I will hit once I’m back. In this family we love to dance.

Somewhere in my parents’ 70’s paraphernalia storage there is 16mm footage of me doing the robot and many other dance skits. My parents would have elaborate disco dance parties in their basement in the 70’s. (Much like everyone else?) I discovered they were weekend basement disco ravers. The adults were busting it to the Slush, the Hustle, the Robot and couples/group disco dancing; Dance Fever style. Most of us kids were (supposedly) nestled in bed with our pj’s on, listening to the music blaring from the basement. There was no way I was going to lay in bed and let them have all the fun. I would sneak down the steps, one by one until I blended into the brown panelling walls at the bottom of the stairs. I danced, slushed, and hustled with the best of them. At the tender age of 7, I was a disco dancing prodigy.

At any opportunity through my adolescence and adulthood I was dancing at clubs, sometimes 5 to 6 nights a week. On stage or off stage I would sweat it out from the moment I walked in until the music shut down.  In the 80’s it was dancing to all things Mod, from Depeche Mode to The Cult to mosh pit slam dancing. In the 90’s it was pure Grunge and the amazing House with its deep techno beats and all night raves.  With clubs like the Boom Boom Room, The Night Gallery and Catch22 I never skipped a beat.

Fast forward to the here and now, I am Phylishia Rashad to my younger sister’s Debbie Allen. Or better yet she’s Spink and I’m Forcible. My sister is a choreographer and owns her own dance school.  I’m more a pony version of Riverdance to her Fosse Fosse Fosse. She is a trained dancer, I am her trainee; constantly. We’ve spent many times hysterically laughing at the dance studio until we couldn’t laugh anymore; stitches at our sides at her attempts to choreograph a fluid number for me. We end up imitating hoochie dancers at nightclubs, falling over again with laughter.

Fondly I do remember though, years ago as I’d be getting ready for a night out; in my room with Nine Inch Nails blasting on my ‘ghetto blaster’(gay!)  and us screaming into hair brushes (our faux microphones), my sister the observer/protégé taking it all in. She would dance alongside me. We are the Dancing Queens.

So sweet sister, will you teach me how to dance again?

Severed EHL Tendon- 3 Weeks Post-Op

For the most part I’ve been off the pain killers. I’ve resorted to Tylenol Extra Strength for now. I do have a sneaking suspicion that I will be going back to the medications once my second cast is removed and the rehabilitation begins. I'm also FINALLY finished my anti-botic pills which were the size of almonds (4X a day)! If my foot didn't kill me, one of those pills surely would...

I’ve been doing small bursts of exercise on a daily basis. I’ve been gently putting my casted foot down on the floor as I take baby steps (with crutches support). I’m careful as I apply pressure on my foot in my attempt to gauge how much is acceptable, also making sure my toes do not brush against the floor.  Unfortunately an accidental loss of balance and recovery reminds me not to be so bold in my endeavours, resulting in the usual splintering pain shooting up from my big toe to just under my knee cap.

Daily I’ve tried to gently flex my big toe forward; my brain is sending the signals ever so cautiously as I wait for a response. I manage a small squeak of movement; my reward is pain. I imagine this is a good thing. There is contact.

The upside to actually getting up and moving around is; mobility. Sweet mobility. Even for a few moments.  A 5 metre walk is like a marathon, with me triumphant and sweaty at the finish line.

The downside is that this mini marathon causes swelling in my toes and pain from within the cast. For every bit of walking I do I must elevate my foot to stop the throbbing and the swelling.

My husband, being all intuitive to my every whim had booked my masseuse to do a house call for me today. It was a lovely surprise and extremely appreciated. I was nervous and apprehensive at first however within minutes Lorna was working her magic. Engaging in Spiritual conversation, massage and filling with me a feeling of serenity and acceptance. I was revived once again to the power of Yoga and the Mind and how simple breathing can assist in recovery of mind, body and spirit. I feel good and somewhat awakened on this cloudy Thursday.

Focus and Come Back.

e

e is a number!

The sunset was glorious last night, with clouds and shadows of pinks, oranges and purples. The synapses in my brain were jolted back to 1990. The beautiful sky and my brain made a connection to a beat I knew well from a long long time ago…Electronic music in its infancy.

The Orb-Little Fluffy Clouds

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FHixChYgGRI

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

September is a month of reflection and renewal. It is the month when we put our summer behind us and start looking forward to…..Cold weather, Christmas? No.  Structured and beautiful Shoes and Boots.



 I look forward to this time of the year, to show off my best assets. My shoes.  Prior to my surgery way back in August; I had neatly and diligently put away my summer shoe ensemble. (I sheepishly kept a few “lefts” for the remainder of the weeks, just in case).The sweet strappies, the perfect sandals, the pretty ballet flats, the corporate stiletto peek-a-boo (also a Fall transition), the patio espadrille wedge, I could go on. There was no point in keeping them around as I would not have the opportunity to wear them again; this year.

Alas the fall shoe assemblage is one force not to be reckoned with for a woman or your standard homo/metro-sexual. However as I view my fall and winter ensemble of shoes and boots, I’m not inspired by what is to come. I may have to repeat my summer chore and burrow my fall/winter shoe and boot collection as well. It just doesn’t seem feasible as I look at my heavily casted right foot, that my left foot will be able to function solo with a high black Jimmy Choo boot  and ultra-pointy toe, this season. There is something odd about that visual.  

 Not to mention my dozens upon dozens upon dozens (how many dozens was that again?) of lonely shoes and boots that will not have their time to shine. UGGs? Pshaw!  I realize that potentially UGGs may be the only type of footwear I will be able to display on my foot/feet.  It’s not that I don’t find them comfortable and generally stylish with let’s say… jogging pants on your way to the supermarket; any fashion combination other than that-not liken’ them so much!

 I have been haphazardly brainstorming about my potential (and yes truly exciting) return to work in the distant future. UGG’s might not cut it in the office.  Hmmm…although… my other truly unfashionable dismal prospect is the walking air cast that I will have to use to learn how to “walk” again. Totally Lovely.  It’s settled.

 Do you have one size 8 in Black?

Laborious Days

My husband thought it would be a good idea if we went up to our country home on Lake Huron for a few days, being a holiday long weekend. The idea was definitely not appealing to me; however I did not want to disappoint my family. Our house’s main floor has a spacious bedroom, full bathroom and a big family room. I would most certainly be comfortable there. It’s open, airy and breathtaking. It’s been weeks since I’ve been up to the house and I’ve missed it terribly. I travel in the car with my leg propped up as comfortable as possible. This is my second time out of my home in weeks. I’ve entered a somewhat depressive state now, which my husband thinks is cabin fever. I don’t have any energy or vigour to venture out.

 I have to admit that our house is much more welcoming than our city condo, we have no cable and no internet, which does lift my spirits-no interference from the outside world. I am surrounded by nature there, and it’s a tangible escape from the city’s cold and unfeeling reminders. Part of me wishes I can spend the rest of my recovery here by the lake. I can get more accomplished (with my mind), maybe even do a bit of therapy on my foot. I have to set a plan in action; I have to grasp my second wind, well actually my first wind. The princess routine is growing really tired and the guilt that I’m feeling from having to request the smallest things continues to be frustrating. My world is so small, my requests can sometimes seem eccentric or weird but they are the smallest things that help me cope.

I despise my crutches with all senses of the word. You would be hard pressed to hear me ever saying I despise anything.  They are not my friends; they forcibly help me on my little journeys from one spot to another. They trick me sometimes with a false sense of security; they bend and twitch almost comically causing me to sway to and fro like a tightrope walker, trying to gain stability and avoid a fall. These crutches represent much more than the package deal to the cast on my foot. They are just as bored with me as I am with them. They have stripped my independence and my own humility. We continue to be bound to each other against our will. I sound like such a drama queen. 

Outside, the crickets and the soft lapping of the waves are beautiful; I fantasize about going for a swim out onto the lake. The torrential downpour on a particular afternoon only lasted a few minutes which was so disappointing; I wanted it to storm for hours. A good cleansing from Mother Nature of which I watch from my window, my chin propped up on my sofa pillows. The rain eventually stops and a flock of Blue Jays fly by screaming their familiar caw, chasing each other, happy that they can resume their play ... I look out in to the trees and will continue to count the days…

Book and Movie Review II

I have received a lot of movie and book suggestions, and I will try and get through as many as I can on a weekly basis; provided I can sit upright and be of sound mind.. or otherwise..

Oh Yeah ,SPOILER ALERT!

Mars Needs Moms: 
The mother of a little boy named Milo is targeted by female Martians.  The Martians want to kidnap her and bring her back to the planet Mars where they will extract her “mom-ness” and use it to upload the information into the nanny-bots that raise and train all the youngling Martian girls on the planet. During a heated argument with his mother, Milo says that he hates her and wishes she was out of his life.  After being sent to bed he wakes up later that evening heartbroken, wanting to apologize and take back the terrible things he said to his mother. He investigates a bright light coming from her bedroom and witnesses her being kidnapped by the aliens. He chases the smaller ship back to the mother ship where he gets caught on the retractable landing gear. He finds himself jettisoned into space (which he thinks is super cool), but stays focused on trying to find his mother. Once they land on the planet Mars, he is taken prisoner by the Martian women and is placed in a prison cell. He manages to escape from the cell with the help of Gribble, a human secretly living within the bowels of the Martian space station. Together they devise a plan to free Milos’s mother. They meet a trusty Martian rebel accomplice named Ki. There are a lot of twists and turns but they eventually rescue his mother and return to Earth. I felt that this film was emotionally excessive for younger audiences. At one point there is a scene where Milo’s mom is unable to breathe out in the open Mars atmosphere and asphyxiates. What a terrible scene. I don’t really recommend this film, especially for children; it’s definitely does not deliver the usual Disney Magic.

I continued reading 2 more volumes from The Walking Dead Graphic Novel series.

Volume 3-Safety Behind Bars:  The survivors continue on their quest together. They find an abandoned prison, which was at one point overtaken by the Zombies. The survivors manage to segregate an area for themselves and begin to settle in. We see the pressures of the constant fight for survival begin to affect everyone. At times, while clearing areas where Zombie population resides within the prison, they lose precious loved ones during the Zombie attacks. Rick’s instincts and desire to keep the whole group alive are evident and at times; desperate. His over protection begins to resemble fanaticism and the group becomes very concerned that his judgement is askew. We as the audience understand that he wants to weed out the evil doers, those who will potentially act selfishly and bring the group in harm’s way. Relationships between some of the individuals become more strained as time goes on.

Volume 4-The Heart’s Desire: There are a few more characters that are introduced, they are survivors that make their way to the prison and seek refuge. The group is coming to the realization that there will be no rescue and that this will be the matter in which they will have to survive going forward. Some of the intimate relationships start to fizzle as the new people mingle with everyone. Jealousy and sexual deviancy begin to surface.  Rick begins to sense that everyone is starting to lose control; he begins to question his own control. He tries to establish “laws” or “rules” that everyone can abide by. The survivors begin to feel territorial and defensive. They do not want Rick as their leader any longer as they feel he is compromised with his emotions and has made some rash decisions. They form a committee with 4 leaders consisting of 4 men of which Rick is included. The women do not want to be on the committee and are content with the men representing and protecting them.

These 2 volumes confirm that in desperation people will break rules and seek out their unexplored desires regardless of how dire a situation may seem. Ego’s and selfishness are prevalent; there is a feeling of anarchy. People will behave selfishly and disrespect laws of man and laws of nature in these circumstances to serve themselves. 

Veronika Decides to Die, by Paulo Coelho
An account of a beautiful young Eastern European woman who is perceived as ‘having it all’. Her mindset is quite different than those around her. She doesn’t want to fall into the everyday mundane life that society expects of her.  She attempts suicide with sleeping pills. She does not succeed, and wakes up in a mental institution. She is told she has done irreversible damage to her heart and only has a few days to live. Within these few precious days she has left, she meets a few characters in the institution that make her re-think her look on life. Veronika realizes that she does have so much to live for-her own individuality. She makes the most out of the little time she has by learning the life stories of the people that are in the institution. Her physician teaches her a hard lesson about her precious life; in truth she is not really dying. She never finds out about this secret. She leaves the institution thinking every day could be her last.

We realize that the lunatics in the asylum may not be as crazy as everyone thinks. More so we realize that people who are perceived as different or do not subscribe to society’s conformities are labeled as ‘insane’ or ‘mentally unstable’. A redeeming and eye opening novel that will definitely provoke thought.


A Grand Weekend to all.

The Visitors

My husband has been a pillar of loving strength for me and keeps my chin up,  also….

Over the past few weeks since I have been at home, I’ve been graced with the presence of very special people.  

Family that are like friends, and friends that are like family.

Some of my dearest friends and family have stopped by bringing comfort in many ways, shapes and forms. They’ve entered my home accompanied by sweet delicacies, great java, nacho platters, spring rolls, (all some of my favorite things!), not to mention magazines, flowers, information and activities etc.

There are the friends that keep me cheered up with witty banter through texts or E-mailing me from their vacation destinations to see how I’m doing!!! They are thinking of me.  Grateful.

They are all keeping me connected. These are the human connections. These types of connections can’t be compared with Facebook, Twitter or Social Media which can lead to utter loneliness and alienation.

These are the people that I could call if I was stranded on the highway with a broken down vehicle and needed help.  I wouldn’t even have to guess twice; I have many choices.
To truly know that someone cares and doesn’t expect anything in return is real. These are the no strings attached genuine friendships, which run deep.  Appreciate.

 I am grateful to have them and I appreciate them. I’m blessed to have such connections. I love them. It’s that simple.