***Disclaimer: No puppies were harmed in the writing of this post; however, big toes were maimed and massacred, and there may be occasional mentions of blood (a warning for all you squeamish types like me out there; I almost passed out just typing this).
While chilling in Avila Beach last week, I woke up Friday morning to a throbbing sensation on the side of my right foot's big toe. Initially, I assumed it was the onset of a blister from my 18-miler earlier that week, on top of sprint work and boot camp, but it had been a solid two days since the last time I strapped on my running shoes and I'd been rocking the Havianas instead, and blisters don't just mysteriously crop up a few days later.
While nice and comfortable, heat stroke aside, the boutique hotel I was staying at didn't have air conditioning, which is actually surprisingly common for lodging in California. When my friend Karen came to town last week, she had trouble tracking down a place to stay in San Francisco that actually offered A/C (and with her luck, she arrived at the same time as a heat wave). This is because California nights are so cool, you usually don't need it. Then, there are the times when the thermometer grazes ONE-HUNDRED-AND-ELEVEN -- like all of last week in Central Cal where I was exploring -- and you start to wither under the sun's glare.
I didn't remember what it felt like to be in 90-degree weather, let alone 100+. Thus, one must improvise when such rarities occur. I slept in the nude (don't judge, I was alone), pointed two high-power fans on me full blast, and left the balcony wide open, and I still woke up one sticky hot mess. I was afraid I would open my eyes to find some Peeping Tom peering into my window, ogling my naked bod, but instead I awoke to a hole in my big toe.
Had a seagull swooped in for a snack? Had the bloodthirsty protagonists in the vampire series SVV's sister had brought me to read come alive off the pages and mistook my foot for a neck? Had this ailment been there for days and I just hadn't notice? Apparently, that wasn't the case, as there were splatters of blood on the floor that formed an illogical pattern and a small blood stain on the sheet (sorry, hotel, you can send me the drycleaning bill!). Had I been John Locke or Kate Austen, I could have cracked the case with my keen tracking abilities, but unfortunately, I've never been stranded on an idyllic island in the middle of the South Pacific.
The hotel, bless them, gave me a whole handful of medical supplies to doctor my scathed foot and protect the toe from the sandy perils of the beach. As I settled into my lounge chair down by the pier -- I know you guys are convinced that all I do is lay out and stay in fancy hotels all the live long day, but I work, I do! I actually had turned in eight stories to the Travel Channel that morning (eight of which I left to the last minute, per my usual work ethic) and needed to recharge my batteries -- I noticed a spot of dried blood on the opposing ankle.
As I reached down to examine it -- turns out it was but a lingering gift from the injured -- something landed on my left bicep and stung me. OUCH! I sat upright in pain, completing neglecting the fact that I had untied my bikini top to minimize tan lines, and, as a result, bared my bazonkas for all of Avila Beach to see, particularly the two six-year-old hooligans (what am I all of a sudden, your grandmother?) who were already staring me down from a blanket just a few feet away. Their eyes widened in distress behind the plastic dinosaur shades that concealed their faces, as I apologized (in my mind) to their mother -- who was bedecked in a wide-brimmed hat and a full body suit IN THE MISERABLE HEAT; seriously, why do people come to the beach if they're just going to cover up from head to toe? seems like agony to me -- and gave her a referral for a respectable child psychologist.
And the mystery of the bloody toe remains unsolved. But at least my girls are still glowing from being allowed out in public, so there's that.
**********
And on a completely random note, a mildly entertaining video of some dude dancing at the XYZ party at the W in San Fran last night (people behave like this at the W??? apparently after enough eco-friendly elderflower martinis they do). Commentary provided by Autumn and my "boss" MRP.
XYZ Opening at the W from krysleigh on Vimeo.
While chilling in Avila Beach last week, I woke up Friday morning to a throbbing sensation on the side of my right foot's big toe. Initially, I assumed it was the onset of a blister from my 18-miler earlier that week, on top of sprint work and boot camp, but it had been a solid two days since the last time I strapped on my running shoes and I'd been rocking the Havianas instead, and blisters don't just mysteriously crop up a few days later.
While nice and comfortable, heat stroke aside, the boutique hotel I was staying at didn't have air conditioning, which is actually surprisingly common for lodging in California. When my friend Karen came to town last week, she had trouble tracking down a place to stay in San Francisco that actually offered A/C (and with her luck, she arrived at the same time as a heat wave). This is because California nights are so cool, you usually don't need it. Then, there are the times when the thermometer grazes ONE-HUNDRED-AND-ELEVEN -- like all of last week in Central Cal where I was exploring -- and you start to wither under the sun's glare.
I didn't remember what it felt like to be in 90-degree weather, let alone 100+. Thus, one must improvise when such rarities occur. I slept in the nude (don't judge, I was alone), pointed two high-power fans on me full blast, and left the balcony wide open, and I still woke up one sticky hot mess. I was afraid I would open my eyes to find some Peeping Tom peering into my window, ogling my naked bod, but instead I awoke to a hole in my big toe.
Had a seagull swooped in for a snack? Had the bloodthirsty protagonists in the vampire series SVV's sister had brought me to read come alive off the pages and mistook my foot for a neck? Had this ailment been there for days and I just hadn't notice? Apparently, that wasn't the case, as there were splatters of blood on the floor that formed an illogical pattern and a small blood stain on the sheet (sorry, hotel, you can send me the drycleaning bill!). Had I been John Locke or Kate Austen, I could have cracked the case with my keen tracking abilities, but unfortunately, I've never been stranded on an idyllic island in the middle of the South Pacific.
The hotel, bless them, gave me a whole handful of medical supplies to doctor my scathed foot and protect the toe from the sandy perils of the beach. As I settled into my lounge chair down by the pier -- I know you guys are convinced that all I do is lay out and stay in fancy hotels all the live long day, but I work, I do! I actually had turned in eight stories to the Travel Channel that morning (eight of which I left to the last minute, per my usual work ethic) and needed to recharge my batteries -- I noticed a spot of dried blood on the opposing ankle.
As I reached down to examine it -- turns out it was but a lingering gift from the injured -- something landed on my left bicep and stung me. OUCH! I sat upright in pain, completing neglecting the fact that I had untied my bikini top to minimize tan lines, and, as a result, bared my bazonkas for all of Avila Beach to see, particularly the two six-year-old hooligans (what am I all of a sudden, your grandmother?) who were already staring me down from a blanket just a few feet away. Their eyes widened in distress behind the plastic dinosaur shades that concealed their faces, as I apologized (in my mind) to their mother -- who was bedecked in a wide-brimmed hat and a full body suit IN THE MISERABLE HEAT; seriously, why do people come to the beach if they're just going to cover up from head to toe? seems like agony to me -- and gave her a referral for a respectable child psychologist.
And the mystery of the bloody toe remains unsolved. But at least my girls are still glowing from being allowed out in public, so there's that.
**********
And on a completely random note, a mildly entertaining video of some dude dancing at the XYZ party at the W in San Fran last night (people behave like this at the W??? apparently after enough eco-friendly elderflower martinis they do). Commentary provided by Autumn and my "boss" MRP.
XYZ Opening at the W from krysleigh on Vimeo.
11 comments:
i have never slept naked. i feel like i would FREEZE.
I'm like dying to know what happened to your foot! That's insane.
That is crazy about your foot and hilarious about those kids - at least if their mom didn't see.
Every time I sleep naked I always think a fire alarm will go off. Makes me nervous. Can't sleep.
And it never ceases to amaze me that CA doesn't have more a/c. But then again I live in Phoenix, where even dog houses have air.
I freak about sleeping naked. Even after Adult Fun Time, I must put on my PJs. Husband is annoyed by this for some reason.
Sleeping naked feels naughty, which is why we all need to do it once in a while. Ever take a naked picture of yourself? It's liberating in an odd way ...
And that is crazy about your foot! You need to do a follow up post and offer up some crazy fiction about "the undeicpherable mystery of the bloody toe."
Loved the Beckham posts. For a completely hilarious and snarky comment on the Beckham couple, see here http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://thesportshernia.typepad.com/blog/images/2007/07/14/david_beckham_victoria_beckham_boob.jpg&imgrefurl=http://thesportshernia.typepad.com/blog/2007/07/la-braces-for-a.html&h=354&w=400&sz=26&hl=en&start=10&um=1&tbnid=ib67OKW5GLWOiM:&tbnh=110&tbnw=124&prev=/images%3Fq%3Ddavid%2Bbeckham%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26rls%3Dcom.google:en-US:official_i%26sa%3DN
Love
Jvanvelsor
The Mystery of the Exploding Toe! It sounds like a Nancy Drew novel. But I'm quite sure Nancy never bared her bosoms in public. (Bosoms! The word "bosoms", like "hooligans", automatically ages you 40 years.)
Despite the heat and the horrible heat I could spit I am so jealous of you right now.
i've got my own mystery ailments - random bruises in the most bizarre places on my body. most will be visible in the dress i'll be wearing this weekend. add to that my rocking runner's tan and i'll be one hott bridesmaid!
Mysterious, really. What happened to your toe? Strange...
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