Apparently Recovery Includes Tomatoes, 99% Humidity and Fall Decorating Delusions
Tomorrow I go back to the foot doctor.
The goal is simple: determine whether this foot is actually healing, whether I can bend my big toe, and whether the doctor will officially allow me to start physical therapy. You know how well I do with the word “allow.” Spfffff.
I have followed the rules. Mostly. I have not walked on the foot. Sort of. I have used the scooter. I have iced it. Elevated it. Protected it. Complained about it. And, when absolutely necessary, I have hobbled outside to supervise Clark and retrieve tomatoes before a storm. Because apparently the tomatoes cannot be trusted to handle weather on their own.
Last week, Clark was outside racing against the rain to get a downspout installed while I was carefully making my way outside to collect tomatoes and tell him what a wonderful job he was doing. He was thrilled. I could tell by his face. Meanwhile, my garden has apparently decided that this is the year it will feed all of Central Illinois. I currently have three gallon-sized storage bags filled with tomatoes. I eat tomatoes in the morning. I eat them for lunch. I eat them with dinner. I give them away. There are also shishito peppers, jalapeños and banana peppers coming in faster than I can figure out what to do with them. And then there are the little tiny tomatoes. I do not even know what variety they are, but they are teeny-tiny and ridiculously adorable, which means I am emotionally attached to produce now. Worst case, I’ll make sun-dried tomatoes.
We are currently experiencing 90-degree temperatures, so technically nature is already halfway there. The only complication is the humidity. This weekend, the humidity hit 99%. Yes. Ninety-nine percent. At that point I believe the air is technically soup. My hair was approximately as tall as I am wide, with a lovely frizz halo that suggested I had recently been electrocuted.
Naturally, this was also the weekend of the Windsor Harvest Picnic. Clark ran the 5K Saturday morning and took first place in the 60+ division, while I sat in the rain cheering people on and trying to look like someone who had made excellent life choices. And honestly? It was wonderful. One of the coolest parts of the morning was meeting people who follow Our Restoration Journey / Pound Home & Gardens on Facebook.
Real people. In real life. People who knew us from the house. That was one of those moments where this whole thing suddenly felt a little different. What started as Clark and me trying to save an old house has somehow turned into a whole bunch of people joining us for the chaos. And we love it. Especially because there is almost always something around here capable of surprising you. Daily. Sometimes hourly. Later that evening, we went back to hear Hotel California, an Eagles tribute band, and they were absolutely incredible! Still soooooo humid. Still frizzy. Still in a boot on a scooter and it was sooooo hot. Still worth it.
Which brings me back to tomorrow. I am desperately hoping the doctor looks at my foot, watches me bend my toe and says the magical words: “You can start therapy.” Because physical therapy means progress. Progress means walking. And walking means I may eventually be trusted inside a store again. Conveniently, tomorrow’s appointment is very close to Hobby Lobby. This is not insignificant. I have been saving my fun money, and I have visions. Fall visions. Not smiling pumpkins, we aren’t there yet…. but maybe in a few weeks?
Right now I am thinking old estate in the fall. Florals. Vines. Layers. Rich colors. Something that looks like an old house has quietly slipped into autumn without suddenly developing a personality disorder involving orange plaid and wooden signs. Luxury estate. Collected. A little dramatic. Possibly more faux greenery than one person needs. Can anyone envision Clark’s facial expressions when I express this NEED to go to Hobby Lobby and can he please drive me there? Can he not question the NEED for fall florals. Fall sparkle stuff.
So while my doctor may believe tomorrow’s appointment is about tendon healing, I believe we all understand the larger stakes. Can Kat bend her toe? Therapy? But most importantly: Can Kat safely be released into Hobby Lobby? Fingers crossed. And toes crossed too. Well. The ones I’m currently allowed to move. Hahahaha, I’m cracking myself up with that one!
Meanwhile, the house keeps moving forward whether I do or not. Clark keeps working. The garden keeps producing. The projects keep multiplying. And a whole bunch of new people have recently joined us on this very strange restoration journey.
Which means I should probably warn you: Every once in a while we casually mention something here. You know the burned attic, things we’ve found in walls, the cellar, rooms we haven’t even started, some bizarre piece of this house’s history? Then someone says, essentially: Wait. WHAT? Those are my favorite moments!
Because after living with this house for a while, we sometimes forget which parts of our life are completely normal to us and completely insane to everyone else. So when we casually drop something that makes you think, HOLD UP. BACK UP. EXPLAIN THAT, say something. There are more than 160 years of stories here.
And apparently an unlimited supply of tomatoes.