Caught In The Boot

Sometimes people prefer to run whatever race their running by starting with everyone else at the starting line. This allows them to believe that the moment is a fresh unspoiled beginning and that given whatever task is at hand, what ever challenges they face, at least the playing field is even -- that all have exactly the same chance for success, at least in that short second before the gun sounds.

Sometimes.

Sometimes it’s better for wheels to fall off, or for the car split in two -- to be pushed off the side of the road and driven through a barn full of hay and chickens. Sometimes it’s better to stumble at the starting blocks, to fall and scrape ones knee before gathering it together and finishing the race -- to be pushed off a bike and have to tape ones feet to the peddles. At least in Hollywood, at least in the movies.

Sometimes.

And sometimes people fall off porches and rupture a tendon in their ankle, finding their leg in a walking cast two days before they leave for Disneyland, like what just happened to Sweetie.

Sometimes.

The good: She can take it off to swim. Doesn’t need crutches to walk. The pain is minimal. Can really put a boot in my ass when needed.

The bad: Makes it hard to carry Ike up and down stairs. Difficult to maneuver Ike’s stroller on the ramp. Hard to find fashionable clothes that match a big ole’ boot.

The rest: Good or bad is pretty irrelevant at this point. We are off for an adventure and there will be pictures and there will be stories and for all I know there will be hurricanes and lightning storms as well. There will be no medals given out for this event, which due to the poor condition of the athletes and their faulty training regimen, is, I think, rather fair.

At this point I don’t even want to guess if it’ll be a Rocky II, or a Rocky I ending. Time will keep moving and we will catch the plane, do our business, and catch another plane home. All that stuff in the middle, that stuff where your head is spinning…that’s just life.