So it's the middle of Spring Break, most of which has been spent at my desk next to my bedroom window. It pissed down rain all through the weekend and Monday especially, but now it is approaching 60 and gloriously sunny. It looks great. You know, from here.
Monday I did have to venture out, however, for my physical therapy and French class. I had to wear my boots, since it was still chilly, which were really getting down to their last days. These are the uber-sexy boots my mom bought me in Himeji back in 2003. Considering their most excellent price, they sure did last a very long time. So the bottom of the right foot was getting a little loose, and no sooner did I leave therapy...well, it came off almost completely. It was still hanging on, and if I raised my foot, it flopped about. (I couldn't rip it off.) So I had to sort of drag my foot along to get anywhere. It was very Horace Pinker from Shocker. Seriously, it looked just like that. (Well, less dramatic, I suppose.)
Very luckily, I knew there was a DSW shoe store between therapy and school, so it took a bit, but I got there. I found cute shoes (open-toed, not the brightest move when it's pouring rain and chilly, but I wasn't going to shell out for expensive boots in late March, kwim?) and $44 later, still made it to French class on time. (Though my class-mate did remark on my brave shoes in the elevator.)
French class is going fairly well. There is one girl in the class who certainly exceeds the other five of us in aptitude, but I think she has a good amount of time (and certainly desire, good on her) to devote outside of class. She's also studying Finnish, which is neat. (You know, for her. Rock out. I have no desire.)
The teacher is quite nice and easy to get along with. On the down side, I get a little paranoid sometimes. I really hope that English is not her first language or that if it is, she just didn't understand the use of a word she recently used. We were working through some exercises that we all seemed to have a grasp on and she wanted to know if we'd just like to move on to the next thing. We all sort of looked around and muttered our accord. So we moved on to the next section and in choosing who went first she said, "Ellen! I heard your strident voice agreeing, why don't you go?"
Ok, maybe I'm wrong, but I always used "strident" to mean a piercing/obnoxious shrill voice, yes? I think my mouth visibly hung open but I regained composure and moved along. WTF? I'll show you strident, woman...
About to head out once again for another round of physical therapy (which sitting at my computer hasn't been helping, but it's amazing how much the exercises my guy gives me DO help) and French class. Then it's Restaurant Week here in Boston and D's birthday, so we have reservations near the waterfront at a surf-n-turf (ok, I wrote "turd," let's hope that's not the case) type place I ordinarily couldn't afford. NOM.
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