Sunburned Feet and the Insidious Blisters (my next band name)

I've had a full day to recover from Girl Scouts Rock the Mall, and all I have left are blisters. The sunburn on the tops of my feet (I changed into flip flops when my shoes started hurting, but forgot to sunscreen my feet) is fading. The bruises on my right hand from repeatedly putting on and taking off a heavy backpack are fading. Just the blisters remain. Unfortunately they are on the BOTTOMS of my feet, right up by my toes. How does this even happen? My feet are so callused I can use them as a pin cushion, but I still manage to get blisters?

Firemen hosing us off to keep us cool. They kept this up for hours. Note: Lincoln Memorial and WWII memorial in background. I love this city.

A closer-in shot:

And me, post-drenching:

And a small (incredibly tiny) part of the crowd:

Frankly, the best part of the whole event was running under the fire hoses. There were two guys at the top of the bucket truck all afternoon, and they delighted in soaking us with a misting hose, and then surprising us with a blast from the cold fire hose set to full blast. Well, probably not full blast, but you know, really strong compared to the misting. I tried to get a shot of their faces, but I couldn't get close enough without soaking my camera, so I wanted to make sure everyone knew I don't think they stopped grinning all afternoon. Thanks, DCFD!

We're also officially part of a Guinness World Record, for largest sing-along. We had over 250,000 people all singing at once. It's probably the only thing I could have managed to do to get into the Guinness Book, since I can't fit a berjillion straws in my mouth, or shoot milk out my eye for distance, or anything else cool like that. Which is probably a good thing.

Anyhoo, I've been hobbling around the house for the last two days, avoiding touching my feet at all for fear they'll explode like two little bombs. That's how they feel, anyway. But things are looking up. I have to put shoes on in a few minutes to drive Lulu to a friend's house for a sleepover. This is both good, and bad, and good again.

Good, because she's going to be away so I'll have a lot of time to write tonight. Bad because putting on shoes sounds like torture. And good, because I promised to take her and her friend out for ice cream. Mainly so I'd have a good enough reason to put shoes on. Ice cream is good enough today.

So, out to ice cream, and de-kid-ification, and then back home to write! Whoo hoo!

I hope it's a good writing night.