Hobbling

You can see me a mile away.
If you don't know me, you can pick me out with a small description.
She is the one that is hobbling along ..


The bandages are off, things look much the way things like that look, shortly after being cut open then sewn shut ... not the prettiest of sights but happily, hidden under socks and behind protective leather boot tops.  With  my sweet husband   there for me to hang on to for dear life, I can march down the street and no one would know.
Almost a week ago I was so nervous about what was coming, hoping this time it would be easier and not look so bad.
It was not easier and looks bad but the outcome is what is good.
It was bad, it is gone, all is well.

It is cold. I mean ridiculously cold.
I am in South America.
Where , in my humble opinion, I should not need  to wear a tee shirt, a heavy turtleneck sweater, jeans, socks, boots, wool coat, gloves and scarf.
And still feel chilled.

We went to "our " cafe where we sat under the heat duct and I was toasting quite nicely.
The cafe is all windows and on a corner so I love sitting and just people watching, crazy driver watching, cute little children walking from school watching and funny people with dogs watching.

From that little cafe on that corner, for the cost of a cup of coffee, your afternoons entertainment is all there.

Then it was time to hobble back home, get off the foot, plan dinner and read a good book.

Tomorrow, someone might come look at our home.
Tomorrow someone might fall in love with it and buy it.
I will be so glad.
I will be so sad.