My new right foot: The BEFORE shot

Yes, I know. They ARE lovely, aren't they? (Hopefully, you removed all small children from the room before opening this blog.)

And, before you reach for the Close button, consider this: Be thankful I wasn't blogging three years ago back when I had a mastectomy.

It's D Day -- the Omaha Beach of bunion banishment. The Waterloo of foot reformation. The Apocalypse of twisted toes. In other words, surgery at 8:15 a.m. bright and early tomorrow morning.

The crutches are primed. Ice packs locked 'n loaded. Books and magazines stacked high next to the bed. And all my favorite Food Network shows circled in red in the TV guide. Bring it on.

Or not.

I took two long walks today -- one with Ben, the dog, this morning. I'm going to miss this over the next five weeks: Every morning is different for Ben. He is never disappointed. He never dodges the wake-up call. Without fail, rain or shine, he dances to the end of the driveway, eyes glowing in anticipation, thinking of the adventures about to befall us at Comstock Park.

Each shrub, tree and fence post tells a new story. There are squirrels to herd, and encounters to complete with canine friends like Wally, Hishi and, yes, even Charlie, the park goof-dog. Life's good. And, life lesson learned, never resist -- and always to try adopt in some small human way -- a dog's zest for life in the moment.

Later, I walked along the Centennial Trail at noon, which snakes along our beautiful, at times rugged, river that splits Bermtopia south from north. It was sunny, 60 degrees. Spring! More and more bird calls command my attention along the river, willows and wild roses are greening up -- and the geese who, on a good day, can send me into a panic attack with a single glance (long story, best told at another time) are teeing up for the mating season and I'm already looking for cover. I'm going to miss this too.

I know it's not forever. But it's for five weeks. And it's spring.