I willingly show off the logistics of my leg to anyone who will listen.

Joe, my first prosthetist, making the cast of my leg that he will use to make my first socket.

Joe, marking the hills and valleys of my leg.

He looks mighty proud of this leg, and he had every right to be. It was a monumental day. I walked on two 'good' legs for the first time. It was surprisingly comfortable.

Using a blow torch to make adjustments to my new socket. Everything had to fit perfectly before he'd make a permanant version.

It was my first Easter on my new leg. I loved finally being able to wear sandals. The meaning of new life on Easter was not lost on me.

It was great to be able to walk out to the dirt mound where Michael was shooting off his toy rockets.

Much of the early writing for Just One Foot was done in this room, in this pose. Keeping my leg elevated helped with swelling so I just kept my bionic foot next to me. Sam was a bit camera shy that day.

Another version of my test socket. It was clear, so Joe could see where my leg wasn't fitting right.

It wasn't necessarily pretty, but it got me through my days with more mobility than I'd had in years, so I hardly cared.

As an added bonus, Joe laminated my favorite team's logo on the inside of my leg. It was like my own private tattoo. Not even a year later they went to their first Super Bowl. A coincidence? I think not.

My very first permanant leg! Since I'd be in shorts, with a tan, for most of the months my leg was visible in public, I had Joe make my leg the color of my right leg when it was summertime tan.

A thoughtful friend in Missouri sent me a new ankle bracelet, knowing how excited I was to be able to wear sandals for the first time in three decades. I took this picture for her, to show her how much I loved her gift, and loved my sandals.

This is what my legs look like in the summer. Guess which one is hidden under a gel liner and plastic socket for most of the day?

Showing my new leg to my nephews and neices on a trip to Texas about four months after my surgery.

It was nice to be able to assure them that I was still 'just that Aunt Judy who loved them'. A metal leg would never change that.