Of broken toes, over packing and falling in love

Oh San Fransisco what can I say? You’re amazing.

And my foot really hurts.

I’ll tell you one thing, if I really get my way and move myself out to San Fransisco to work on stage two of Sam Saves the World and With Cute Shoes, a Winning Smile and Lots of Sass, I’m going to have some killer legs.

Holy crap, you walk a lot in that city.

Although there was some significant toe breakage on Friday night — Rather than make me explain, it’s best just to assume that they should have put me in a bubble long ago and the fact that I’m not dead yet is a sure sign that God is enjoying Himself. A lot. I braved the streets on Sunday morning when I ventured back into the city to meet an old soccer teammate of mine and get an insiders guide to the city.

I consider it only a minor character flaw that I’m what one might call an overpacker. I just like to be prepared. I might want those green boots. Or that gray sweater. Or three different reading books. YOU NEVER KNOW. Needless to say you could fit a dead body in my suitcase. And not just a small lean cuisine loving dead body, oh no we’re talking full on I love meat and potatoes and you would never find me living in Berkeley because you have to WORK to find a restaurant that serves meat kind of body. Southwest Airlines (whom I usually love) complicated matters by breaking the handle of my suitcase on my trip out here, meaning you have to haul the thing sans-retractable handle to help. I also think this may have given the feeling of, say, an extra 15 pounds of weight. It’s possible.

For the previous legs of my journey, I had big super strong men who didn’t judge my over packing at all (right Daddy, Jack and Ryan? Not one ounce of judgment coming from the three of you?). For my final leg, I walked myself, my broken toe and my huge bag possibly containing a body a good 9 blocks. It’s possible it was more, I stopped counting after a while. A block from the BART station a cabby tried to pick me up. Really? Are you kidding me? I consider this my first feat to San Francisco living. I hauled my bag all the way to the station without getting lost or crying. Pshh to you Mr. Cabby, where were you 8 blocks ago?

So I made it to the city on the BART. THE BART WHERE YOU CAN TAKE DOGS AND BIKES. I met up with Kaitlan and informed her that I really was not kidding. MY BAG IS THAT BIG. We dragged the thing another 8 blocks to her apartment and ditched it in her garage before heading out to explore. At this point my foot felt kind of like it had daggers being jammed up the first three toe nails while simultaneously was being hammered with a jack hammer. But I made it this far damn it, I was determined to enjoy.

I would like to say that I want Kaitlan’s life. I kept having to remind myself that I was not going to be moving to this city and taking a corporate job that would allow me to live somewhere like Kaitlan and her super nice boyfriend John. No, I would plan on moving to the city with very little money and lots of stuff, a dog and plenty of student loans to keep me busy. I’m going to end up living 8 people deep in a two bed room sharing a snuggie with a guy named Javier. I’m sure of it. But hey, you do what you’ve freaking got to do to get into a hippie grad school and save the world.

Kaitlan’s neighborhood is gorgeous and fun and it was such a beautiful day that I ignored the fact that my foot pain had turned to a dull numbness accented by sharp pains every time my toe touched my shoe and agreed to take a walking tour.

Here’s one of my favorite sites:

You know what that is? That’s the full house house. FULL HOUSE. Oh DJ, Stephanie and Michelle are you still there? I can see you lip syncing with Uncle Jesse in the living room. I swear I can. Oh it’s the little things that excite us 20-something Kansas girls with a dream. The little things I tell you.

So after my walking tour of the city, John was nice enough to lift my massive bag into his car and drive me to the airport rather than make me drag the thing back across the city where I would inevitably be mugged as some homeless person would surely like to use my bag as a MANSION.

It wasn’t until I woke up in the morning that I could feel my foot again. And wow, lets just say numb was better. I think the bruising had quadrupled and my toe looked a bit like it had swallowed a clementine. The only shoe I could put my foot in to find my way to work was a soft fake ugg like boot. Guess I’ll be rocking the Ugg/tights/dress look all week.

Saturday morning before I started walking my toe looked like this:

And then I walked 10,00 miles and…

Possibly I made it worse, no?

Really, Monday morning I told someone to punch me in the face. BECAUSE IT WOULD HURT LESS.

My lovely roommate Amelia bought me a fancy-schmancy pedicure for my birthday in October. I unfortunately couldn’t use it because I had a bit of a lack of toe nail problem that stemmed from hiking in the hills in Ghana this summer. My nail is almost completely back and now this. Are we sensing a trend here? I’m hoping that I’ll be able to get that pedicure taken care of before I leave Houston, because who knows when the next time will be I won’t have damaged sad toes once I move to Berkley.

Overall though? Great trip. I left my heart in San Francisco and I seriously want to go get it back.