Black and Blue

I think I broke my toe.  Saturday I was unloading a dishwasher (not my own and not nearly as steamy as it sounds) and needed to put three wine glasses away on a high shelf.  I balanced the bowl of a glass on my three middle fingers and attempted to push the rim up and over the edge of the shelf, but the weight of the stem and the foot of the glass would not allow it to tip. Even in my four inch heels I could not quite reach.  I thought about leaving the glasses on the counter, but it seemed so lazy.

I slid out of my shoes, caramel leather stacked heel mules that became my everyday shoe in the spring, and swung my knee onto the counter.  It’s funny how roomy counters seem until you’re kneeling on one and find you need to hook your fingers under the edge of the cabinet to not fall off while you lean back to put something on the top shelf.  Wine glasses in place, I did another modified camel pose to close the cabinet door (noting, momentarily the wisdom of open shelves) and hopped, somewhat Mary Lou Retten-like, off of the counter and onto the heel of my shoe that I had so wisely removed to ensure that I would not injure myself while getting down.

It hurt like a son of a gun, though I used a much worse word to express my discomfort.  I walked tentatively, lightly pressing my foot into the cool wood, until I finally shrugged and thought, “What’s a girl to do?” There’s only so much time in a Saturday after all.  I slid my feet back into my mules and ran errands for an hour.

In hindsight, this might not have been the wisest decision.  When I stopped to pick up some art from the framer’s, I told the owner, who is a friend, my story.  I pulled my foot from my shoe and set it, gratefully, on the cool concrete floor. “Holy cow!” he said.  I hope that he meant the swelling and not just the horror of my feet, which are, I can say without reservation, my least attractive part.  In every way, they embody my Irish peasant heritage.

I went home from there to change shoes and then (you didn’t think I was just going to go home, did you?) and then to have an adventure with my friend whom I think of as my Auntie Mame. I promise you, time spent with her is always smart.  Finally, I did ice and elevate and tape.

I asked one friend what Louise Hay would say about accidentally breaking one’s toe.  “Trouble in the foundation? Self-inflicting pain?” I wondered.  “Refusal to move?” she responded.  “Or maybe just an accident.” Yes, most likely.  As the bruise began to bloom down my toe and across the top of my foot, another friend offered the most obvious advice.  “Wine glasses don’t go on the top shelf.” Truer words.

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8 thoughts on “Black and Blue

  1. Oh have I been there Patricia. Now only items seldom used go on the top shelves!! Hope you are healing (no pun intended)! 4 inches!

    xoxo
    Karena
    The Arts by Karena
    Artist Nicoletta Belletti

  2. Figure on 7 weeks. Every time. I've broken my "pinky" toe 3 times always from rushing around barefoot. It actually has a name….a "bedroom break", because it is common when one has to get up in the middle of the night…..

  3. This is such a beautiful post. I have been reading your blog for years. (Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House is one of my favorite movies of all time–my kids can even quote from it.) I have become interested in needlepoint, also because of my mother. I lost my mom, who was an avid needlepointer, over 12 years ago. She needlepointed my oldest child a gorgeous stocking and finished it just weeks before she died suddenly. I just turned 46 and I have decided that I want to pursue needlepoint. I had fooled around with it a bit, and she encouraged me. In recent years I found a couple of Maggie Lane needlepoint books with beautiful chinoiserie designs but wasn’t quite up to the “beginner” directions for counting your way to a beautiful canvas that she provided! 😉 I finally ordered a big canvas that has a Matisse bird print on it several years ago. I just started it (a surprise fourth child sidelined me!) and I am determined to finish it, even if it takes me years, which it most likely will! I am a novice basketweaver and don’t know any of the beautiful stitches my mom used on the projects she did. I don’t know a single person who does needlepoint, but I have loved reading about your needlepoint projects. Bravo for starting a line! You have amazing taste and the bit of your design that you showed in this post is stunning. When (not if!) I finish my overly ambitious first project I would love to buy one of your designs. You are an inspiration! (And you write beautifully.) Thank you so much for this post!

  4. I really hope that your toe heals up nicely. BTW, those gorgeous caramel leather stacked heel mules really caught my sister’s eyes. It’s just a shame that they appear to have some small scratches. Don’t worry, though. They’re nothing a good clean and simple repair won’t fix.

    Peter @ Colourlock

  5. Dear Mrs. Blandings:

    As a long time reader, I admire your sense of style and adventure. We seem to appreciate the same decorators (Nicky Haslam for example), and your experiments in translating the enormously expensive into something more affordable (painting your dining room chairs for example)have encouraged me to go beyond my practical Midwestern upbringing – people in Roeland Park, Kansas did not do these things.

    Imagine my surprise when I saw that you and I have the exact same curtains! I feel as if I joined a special club, like an owner of a Bugatti or a Duesenberg. Maybe I'll wear my sunglasses on my subway ride tomorrow while reading "world of Interiors".

    Thanks for the inspiration and now, validation.

    Jack in the Washington, DC Suburbs

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