Work is out for the summer, and I should be elated. However, I am not feeling the freedom part of my vacation time yet. Bag disasters, plantar fasciitis flare-ups and a minor car crash lead to a full on anxiety attack. On Saturday, some guy backed into my car while attempting an illegal u-turn, even though I was laying on my horn. He smashed my headlight and bumper, but I was not hurt. (Just one more thing to take care of before I leave the country for six weeks.)
Saturday was the NYC Dyke March, my favorite yearly protest. This year, I decided to step it up a notch and be trained as a marshal, (and I convinced my pal Elvis to join in the marshal fun). Despite the car crash, I made it to the train and to the march on time to sign in and receive my official tee-shirt.
It was the perfect day for the march, not too hot or humid and it didn't pour like previous years. (Pictures posted below.) After the march and shenanigans I made my journey home. By the time I arrived home, my plantar fasciitis had flared up so badly that I limped up the back steps to my apartment. I wasn't prepared for the site when I pulled off my socks and shoes. My foot was so swollen and puffed up that I had no arch, and no visible lines on the bottom of my foot.
I spent Monday running around like a loon, getting estimates on the damage to my car ($1200), visiting the chiropractor to rehab my foot, and doing last minute things. Tuesday evening is here, my bags are packed, my checklist is completed and I am as ready as I am going to be. Our flight leaves for Fort Lauderdale at 8 in the morning, with a layover before we arrive in Peru tomorrow night. Whooooooo-hooooo, ready or not, here I go.
Hi, I'm Reverend J, a queer+ sober wanderer, activist, writer and ordained minister.