Peg-leg Casey

_{not the author's actual legs}

Today's post will detail all the positive attention I have been getting for the most recent addition to my life: the walking cast or as we in the non-medical field like to call it the boot. I feel much like how a bride must feel on her wedding day, or how a very pregnant woman must feel going for a stroll in the park, or, at the very least, that is how I am choosing to see it. Everyone has a perky comment (although many of these are of the obvious kind), everyone seems overly concerned (who doesn't like to be fussed over?) and I, in turn, get to make up a dramatic lie for each of them. The boot is not a remark on my general lack of grace or failure to control my own balance, but rather an invitation to a dialogue. And I get to wear it for 4-6 weeks!


Last night, on the way to my local public house, a man commiserated with me as he had just got his boot taken off and offered much sagely advice like You know you can get temporary Handicap plates for that? Today as I was walking towards the post office, another man ran ahead of me and pushed the wall switch enabling the automatic door opener. And from the look on his face, I think he must have expected a genuine Thanks. I am looking forward to the two weddings to which I have had the good fortune of being invited and having the most brilliant excuse imaginable of why I cannot dance. All because of a minor hopscotching accident, oh wait, I mean, bareback llama-riding whilst doing Machu Picchu, or was it that overly ambitious Macarena at my third cousin's Bat Mitzvah last weekend?

Sigh. So much for my learning to drive stick shift this July. Or helping my friend move out of her house this weekend. I'm just not going to be much of a help there. And as for picking my parents up at the airport with all the luggage they insist on traveling with, I'd really like to help, but me and my peg-leg would probably be one more security risk not worth taking.