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Eight feet hell! Trying to hang on to the two which are hard enough for one to handle

Trips to StatCounter are rather infrequent for me nowadays. Since my blog is a writer’s exercise I am not always cognizant of those who might pass by and, God forbid, even read my work. I should be more thoughtful. A frog should have wings.

StatCounter, in case you didn’t know, is a site that tracks Web traffic. All one has to do is copy a little code and paste it into your site’s inner sanctum — sounds like rectum but it’s really more like a brain, strange — and there you go. The counter reveals all sorts of cool numbers and can map where traffic comes in and out of a blog or Web site. I’ve always thought the coolest trick StatCounter does is compile the nations where all the traffic comes from and it even lets you look at page visits beside the flag of a visitor’s nation. I checked it out recently and saw that I had visitors from 30 different countries. Most were one-hit wonders, ranging from a single page view from Brazil to Croatia to Saudi Arabia. The most views, 397 at that particular point in time, were from the U.S. of A. That’s not many but quite a few more than I used to get on my old Blogger site. Thanks for that Tokyo Paul!

A keyword analysis the Counter performs is a slight source of amazement, to me at least, and quite entertaining. For instance, when I recently checked there were eight different visitors searching for the keywords “excited smiley face.” I have no idea what the searchers thought they would find. Scrolling on down, there were four page visits for “Leroy farted.” That one I knew.

It isn’t surprising when I find keyword searches for “feet” or something to do with feet given the name of the blog. I really don’t know what people expect when they see the blog’s name. If I didn’t know the reason behind the name — I’m not really sure that I remember the back story anyway — I would surmise it has some connection to a grave due to “six feet under” is or was a popular euphemism for death or buried. Of course, the Aughts HBO series “Six Feet Under” also comes to mind for some. It was a very dark drama although I would personally categorize it as a comedy-drama because it was pretty darn funny in its own black-humored way.

Thus I am buried in the irony that someone is possibly searching my blog for feet information while I am searching elsewhere on the Web for a cheap pedicure. How crazy is that? It’s not?

Now I’ve never had a pedicure before. I’m not a pedicure kind’a guy. But only in the last year or two have I developed wicked — in the bad sense — looking toes due to diabetic neuropathy. Along with that condition, my toenails seem to each have its own idea as to which direction to grow.  The best I can tell, my left first toe may have a condition called “onychogryphosis,” which is a.k.a. “ram’s toe.” (Warning: Graphic toenail photographs!)

I really need to see a podiatrist  but my medical “team” at the VA said they can only refer patients to the Houston VA hospital podiatry department for conditions such as those requiring amputation. Maybe if I just wait and do nothing … That is kind of the way the Department of  Veterans Affairs can be.

My nurse suggested I get a pedicure but I figured that might be somewhat costly. Looking around at local nail sites it seems the going rate is about $25-plus. But the nurse also suggested a cosmetology school as a place to find cheaper pedicures. Sure enough, I found one, and they said that they would do the nails for $8. Although, I admit I am somewhat leery after reading of encounters with even licensed nail technicians and I am still unsure a pedicure is a good idea for a diabetic foot. I have to do something though. My feet are a mess. I also don’t want my big toe to end up as its own freak show.

Decisions decisions. Diabetes really blows. This I knows. Peace, Yo Rapper Feets!

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Here is wishing you an eight feet deep type of Christmas (if not a whole lot better)

Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho and some more ho. This is my Christmas 2011 message and because of the holidays and the desire to put my poor, crooked toes up and relax, I plan to make this short and sweet. Well, at least I’ll make it short.

To all you non-believers out there, Yes, Damn right Virginia, there is a Santa Claus, and yes, North Carolina and yes, Delaware and yes, Maryland and yes, by God, West Virginia.

Santa on board a C-17 delivers fuel to remote bases in Afghanistan with some help from Tech. Sgt. Mike Morris of Charleston A.F.B., S.C. (U.S. Air Force photo by Staff Sgt. Nathanael Callon)

If you still don’t believe in Santy Claws, then check out NORAD’s page. I mean, NORAD, they’re the ones who keep track of objects which belong and don’t belong in our skies. If you can’t believe them … Pretty interesting story how NORAD got into the business of tracking Santa Claus. You can read for yourself, but a short version:

 
“It all started in 1955 when a Sears media advertisement directed kids to call Santa Claus but printed a telephone number that rang through to the crew commander on duty at the Continental Air Defense Command Operations Center.

“The colonel on duty told his staff to give all children who called in a “current location” for Santa Claus. The tradition continued when NORAD replaced CONAD in 1958.”

Well, that’s all I have to say about that. Dadblamed Gump! Now he’s got me saying it.

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Ode to a pair of flip-flops

One may only imagine the rush of disappointment materializing after Googling or Yahooing or Binging and finding a blog with “Feet” in the title on which nothing appears exhibiting the slightest association with the foot.

Ahhh, the comfort. Like they're not there at all. Wait!!! They're not!

Although I am too lazy to count, I doubt very many posts during the past five years of this blog’s existence had to do with feet. Quite a few missives have presented quality examples of “foot-in-mouth,” as in someone — a politician or even me — putting their foot into their mouth. That isn’t to be taken literally, of course. Finding such flexibility requires an often exhaustive search.

So, if one has any interest whatsoever in feet, today is your day on my blog. Perhaps I overstate a bit. Today is the day I write a little bit concerning feet, footwear to be precise, sandals to be even more accurate.

Over the years I have become quite the fan of the flip-flop. Please, no jokes about John Kerry or any of the other many politicians who say they are for something before they are against it, or vice versa. In fact, I wore flip-flops before flip-flops were cool. That is even before Jimmy Buffett “blew out his flip-flop” in “Margaritaville.” Mostly what I wore back then were actually known as “shower shoes.” They were issued in Navy boot camp to prevent various diseases of the foot where groups of men showered. I continued wearing them throughout the Navy and quite awhile beyond until the same type of shoe became acceptable for outdoor wear.

Books I have read about the Vietnam War indicated North Vietnamese soldiers hiked for hundreds of miles with supplies while wearing flip-flops and other sandals made from tire tread. I don’t know if that is true or not. As is often the case with tales in general, some stories from wartime are told so much that they are taken as fact even if they started out as fiction or exaggeration. It is more than plausible though and a good reason to think a pair of good flip-flops made of sturdy material might prove to be durable footwear.

The summer and fall I took some post-graduate courses I would be chided by friends sometimes for playing hours of volleyball in my flip-flops. But hey, even though I might jump out of my sandals when I went up for a hit I would get the job done.

I have practically lived in flip-flops since my “retirement” five years ago. I speak of the time I have worked part-time while attempting to make money — a “living” would be a stretch — as a freelance writer. This does not include the time when I go off and do my part-time thing, when I have been out on a writing assignment or some other occasion requiring long pants such as freezing-a** weather. But other than that, yes, I have gone through some pairs of flip-flops such as the ones pictured on this page.

The wear has increased on my “flops” with the combination of my very sparse use of my walking and hiking shoes since I developed both foot neuropathy from diabetes and extreme lower back pain which may be pinched nerves from protruding disks or something completely different, as Monty Python used to say.

In the picture are a pair of Stone Creek flip-flops I bought at Academy. This is my second pair of this particular style. I also have two other pair of flip-flops, one made with leather and the other just a relatively cheap pair. If you notice the wear, on the pictured Stone Creek pair, one might assume they are comfortable. One might be right. Sometimes they feel as if they are not there. And sometimes, they’re not!

Combining the comfort with almost omnipresent numbness on the soles of my feet from neuropathy, it can sometime be difficult to tell whether they are there. I have had to ride miles and miles before to find one of my flops because I didn’t feel my foot coming out of it when I got inside an auto.

My nurses at the VA fuss at me for wearing flip-flops since I have diabetes. They are afraid I might hit something or step on something which could turn into an infection. I appreciate their concern. But a person has to have a little comfort in their lives. Flops are mine.