Travels With My Foot, Part 2

Well now I know that you readers are as twisted as I am. I got so many requests for more photos of my foot's travels that I will concede to post a few more. But this is it (famous last words.)

My foot at the Bacardi Distillery in Puerto Rico.

On the beach at Destin, FL. My foot is partial to beaches.

Both feet in the El Yonque Rainforest in Puerto Rico. It is raining.

Scott's hand, giving my foot a rum punch in Aruba.

My foot and friends in Norfolk, VA.

My foot, riding a teeny, tiny Vespa.

My foot, gazing at the Mississippi River bridge from New Orleans to Algiers, LA.

My foot, relaxing in a hammock on Little Cayman.

OK, this is not my foot, but isn't this guy cool? He is indigenous to Little Cayman and has great feet, by the way.

My hand, on a glacier in Iceland. (I may be nuts, but I'm not crazy enough to put my foot there.)

Travels With My Foot

OK, I know what you're thinking -- "I am about to be treated to a description of Annette's podiatry problems," but you're wrong. This really is about travels with my foot. Let me explain.

About six years ago Scott and I were in Cozumel with our friends Bob and Leah. On this day Leah and I were shopping, drinking margaritas and generally having a great time taking a little break from the beach and sun. We came upon a henna tatoo artist and decided to get little bitty tatoos. I have always wanted a tatoo of a Celtic knot on my ankle and the only thing that has kept me from doing it is thinking about getting old, wrinkled and saggy with that tatoo on my foot. Leah, however, is a nurse and gets very adamant about needles and sanitation, so I don't mention the word around her. But, since this is henna, no needles and only lasts a few weeks, we decide to go for it and each of us gets a little Celtic symbol on her ankle. 

Then the fun begins. Emboldened by the tatoo, my "foot" takes on a separate personality and starts demonstrating outrageous behavior that no self-respecting, un-tatooed foot would ever think of doing. My foot was caught in several compromising circumstances and photographed more than I like. Unfortunately, the photos were in predigital days and the prints are buried somewhere that I haven't been able to find for a while, else I would show you the censored version. 

But that first experience has led to a running gag where my foot gets photographed having fun wherever we go. Take a look. (Side note: My foot is partial to red toes.)

My foot and Barb's foot gambling in Biloxi.

My foot, enjoying Barq's Root Beer in the New Orleans French Market.

My foot, sailing on a catamaran in Aruba.

My foot, breaking into the mini-bar in Vegas.

My foot has lots of fun everywhere we go. I am compiling photos and will put them together one day after I finish my novel. It will be a travel log entitled, "Travels With My Foot." Bestseller, don't you think?