In Which I Return From the (Blogging) Dead with a Fractured Foot

It's been a while, hasn't it? I haven't written a word on blogger in over two months. Interestingly, this development ocurred at almost the exact same time I took a second job working with eight year olds in an afterschool program. This is not a coincidence. Eight year olds are exhausting. And if you're not careful, you can catch the flu from them, and spend your spring break curled up on the couch watching movies on demand.
So, those are two events that have occured in my life since I disappeared; a second job, and the flu. But those are old news. Here's more recent unfortunate medical information; I broke my foot.
Well, I didn't really break it, per se. I have, to be exact, a hairline fracture in my metatarsal. When I heard this news, I thought about the word 'metatarsal', and I was not entirely sure what it meant. The 'meta' part sounded Greek. Context dictated that it was a part of my foot, though I wasn't sure which part. Then my sister explained that your metatarsal is the bone right above your toe. She knew this, because she is an animal science major, and she has taken anatomy classes. So really, all I learned from her is that if I were a horse or a cat, my metatarsal would be right above my toe. However, this was still far more than I had known before.
Everyone who sees me limping around, especially my students, asks me how I hurt my foot. This is somewhat humiliating. I injured it walking down the street. I wasn't even walking very fast. Unfortunately, I was walking in heels. Heels that didn't fit.
A lot of people get injured playing sports, or running, or taking risks. I wish I could be one of those people. I would like to be able to say I fractured my metatarsal while marching for peace, or kicking Dick Cheney, or bringing a vaccine to needy children in Alaska. Or even just, you know, playing soccer. When I googled 'fractured metatarsal', I read that David Beckham fractured his metatarsal once. I don't think he did it in heels.
The good news is, my fracture is not a major fracture. In fact, it is a tiny fracture - so tiny that I am, two weeks later, able to walk long distances, ride a bike, climb stairs, and do almost everything I would normally do, except run. And hike. And dance at the New York Ballet. And play center field at Shea stadium. If only it weren't for my fractured metatarsal, I would be able to do all of these things.
However, as my brilliant baseball/ballet career has been tragically cut short, I have returned to the educational field to work with those eight year olds. Luckily, they're helpful- on my first day back at work, I had five kids "helping" me up the stairs. That's how I knew I was really getting better; I could make it up three flights of stairs with five eight year olds hanging off my every limb.
With that, I leave you- but not for two months this time. I'll be back. In fact, this summer, I may be back with another exciting travellogue...but I'll fill you in on that next time.
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