Last Wednesday, I decided it was high time to re-do my blog page. I had no particular ideas in mind and I began to play around. Trouble is...I pushed one of those damned wrong buttons and lost my old template. Thus, I was committed.
You need to understand, I'm a complete idiot at this stuff....html....code....design. I only know what I've had to learn so far...and since I haven't had to use this extensive knowledge for at least a year, it had flown from my brain like the french word for keyboard (I know it starts with the letter "c"), the password for my bank account, and the rules for every single card game I've ever been taught.
So...I sat in front of the damed computer, typing on that thing that starts with the letter "c", for 14 hours. Yeppers, 14 hours in my newly-made bathrobe, doing nothing but struggling with a dumb blog page. I did finally eat something about 10 pm and at midnight I opened a bottle of wine. Which is probably why at 1:30 a.m., I closed up shop. Satisfied. At one point, late in the marathon, I thought I had sat on a pin, probably left behind in the bathrobe-that-had-the-day-before-been-a-sewing-project. I couldn't find it anywhere within the folds of my wonderful, new, fuzzy robe and so, continued on with my project.
The next day, I had a pain in the ass. Okay, actually two. The first was the fact that, by the light of day, I hated my new blog page. The second was, I had an actual pain in my ass. A big, excruciating pain in my hinder. Okay, it was really the top of the back of my thigh but these days the two seem to be one in the same. And when I sat down...well....that wasn't really possible!
During the course of the day, a little black and blue mark developed. I know this because I actually had to yank down my drawers and show my injury to a friend (this is, I'll have you know, downright degrading). She thought maybe it was an insect bite and we let it go at that.
It had improved...a little... by Friday but was still really painful. My friend Claire insisted I make a doctor's appointment for Saturday morning and I decided to placate her. Friday night I spoke with my mom and mentioned this little problem and by the time I was done with that conversation, I was sure I was in the midst of some sort of blood clot crisis and I skipped a party so as not to dislodge said clot and die of a pulmonary embolism (this is why one should never discuss minor health problems with one's mother).
I went to the doc on Saturday, downed my drawers again and said, "mes fesses sont mal. Je crois que c'est un probleme avec un vein. Comment vous les trouvez?" (I don't know if this is proper french....I never know. When I came home I ran that one through the translator and it came out, "My buttocks are evil. I think it's a problem with a vein. How do you find them"?). At which point he laughed and said in French, "now this is a special situation".
Yeah, really special. Hysterical.
After a little prodding and pain, he announced it was a broken surface vein and I had practically no chance of dying from it. He did however, tell me to get off my ass. Which I have been doing. Pretty much.
Today it's much better and I decided to re-do my re-do. I don't know if I'm satisfied. But I'm not going to sit here long enough to worry too much about it. However, I welcome any comments from ANYBODY who knows ANYTHING about this sort of thing.
And back to the subject of fesses. I still haven't gotten to to say "tu les trouves jolies mes fesses?"* which was the subject of a recent post and which I've since found out is a famous quote (here in France, anyway) by Brigitte Bardot in the 1956 movie And God Made Woman. I really had that line on my top ten list of things to accomplish in the near future. And I pictured the moment....oh yes....
But, sadly, my first fesses conversation did not go according to plan.
*roughly translated to "do you find my bottom pretty?"