So, what had happened was…

No post on Wednesday?

No Quiet Thoughts on Friday?

AND no [Fail] Post? Not a word and not a word?

Unprecedented for this blog! Unprecedented, I say! I’m so sorry, Dear Reader! I really am!

Wednesday was simple enough: it was a wall-to-wall day and then I went out for drinks with a local writer mama who is interested in starting a local serious writing group with me. I came home a little overwhelmed and exhausted, and went right to bed. When I woke up on Thursday, I was like, “well… I’ll write a good Quiet Thoughts tomorrow…” and went about my business.

Well, I went through my day on Thursday and then destroyed one of my Christmas crafts.

By accident.

But it was terrible. 

And I wish I could write more about it, but I can’t because too many people I know visit my blog now. Suffice it to say, it was a mixed-media gift that isn’t as time consuming as some of the others: not one of the knits and not one of the quilts, but it was still a thing I’d spent time on and I was pissed. I also learned that the idea that I conceived wasn’t going to work. My idea was sound, my execution was not, and the solution–if I wanted to try again–was impossible because there is so little time between now and Christmas. Next year, though… now I know.

But this year still needed a gift.

So I had to make time on Friday morning to execute a new solution. It meant a 30 minute drive to and from a place, squeezed between school drop-off and an important meeting at 11:30. You’re thinking, “that’s a lot of time, isn’t it?” Well, no, because I had to execute the craft on site.

Anyway… that’s the context. But you have to know my secret: I am a Time Lord. I had a plan and I was going to execute because this is what I do, ya’ll.

And it was all going well until I got to the drop-off line and Ursa Major declared with dismay: “Oops. It’s Library Day. Sorry. ”

Yup… of course. It never fails.

I had to go back to the house anyway. I’d forgotten my little bonus card so I could make my purchase count for free crafty things post Christmas. The plan was to jump back home, get the stuff, pop over to school (which was on the way) and then head to the crafting place.

I got to the house and decided to sprint across my lawn.

I know I’m fat, but I can sprint across my lawn. I’ve got a method, it’s great. So graceful. I’m sure my neighbors have watched and thought, “I can’t believe she can move all of that mass so quickly.” Well, I can. I’ve done it a million times.

So, here we go: Take out the keys of my car, pick up speed, halfway across the lawn, everything is great, awesome awesome, almost there…


Ouch for no reason!

I didn’t slip or fall or anything like that! I just ran! There was no pop or twist or snap or anything. Just me running and my right foot making contact with the ground, but it hurt like a sonofabitch and I was immediately reduced to walking.

So… I walked through the house…

I limped through my house. I was limping. I limped. It’s fine.

I gathered my things. I limped back to my car. By then, the adrenaline had kicked in, so it didn’t hurt so much.

I limped through the school parking lot, dropped off the book (“What happened to you?” “I don’t even know. Friday happened to me.”).

and went through the rest of my day. I made it to the craft store and did my thing. I rocked out my important meeting. I worked on my story that was due at midnight on Saturday. I picked up my children’s Advent calendars from church. I picked up my children. I made them dinner. I got them ready for Scouts. I avoided my husband’s gaze, being sure to not walk while I was around him so that he wouldn’t notice I was limping. (He eventually noticed I was being weird and asked me about it. I told him everything was fine and that I probably just sprained it and no I didn’t need to go to the hospital and no don’t ask me again.) I got cute and went to a friend’s house for a Scentsy party. I limped through it all, but I did it, damnit! I did it.

And when I got home, I was exhausted again. So I said, “I’ll write Saturday Quiet Thoughts and no one will be the wiser.”

I went to bed with a sore and swollen foot. Tomorrow’ll be great.

On Saturday morning, the first 50 steps of my day were the most excruciating of my entire life. Worse than when I broke my fifth metatarsal back in ’09. Think about the important things you do when you first get out of bed. Imagine extraordinary pain for every step to and fro to make those things happen.

I managed to get myself down the stairs. I worked on my story (remember my deadline?) and sipped my coffee and thought about how this was all gonna go down. In my head, I was working on my sternest Suburban Housewife Voice, “We’re all educated adults here. Let’s find some creative solutions for this problem. I absolutely will not be leaving here in a cast.”

When The Husband got up, I told him to drop me off at the hospital. He was very gracious and didn’t give me an “I told you so,” which was very nice of him.

The little ER of my local community hospital was quiet. I got in right away and seen right away. I’m so grateful for the healthcare system in this state. And I am thankful beyond measure for health insurance and the extraordinary privilege of being able to walk into a hospital without a second thought. Everyone should have that. It’s one of our great sins that not everyone can do that.

Anyway, the verdict? An avulsion fracture of a little bone in my ankle that begins with a T… The doctor asked before he got started, “you don’t happen to be in the medical field, are you?”

“I am not, doctor,” I said with a charming smile.

He proceeded to talk to me in Latin anyway.

The bone begins with a T. It was tugged away from the other bones in my ankle, yanked with enough force that it is removed from where it is supposed to be, but still connected to the ligaments that are supposed to keep it in place. My ligaments are so strong that they didn’t tear. It’s treated like a really, really bad sprain. Rest, elevation, Advil and support are required. They gave me this fashionable boot (which really is a help) and they gave me crutches (that I haven’t been using).

I will say, it really does hurt. It hurts like a sonofabitch. It really, really does. But, I’m so thankful that they gave me a removable boot instead of a cast. It means I can still drive, thanks be to God! Our life can remain in motion this month. I can deal with the pain.

So, what’s the moral of the story? Don’t skip blog posts. When you skip blog posts, bad things happen.


What do you mean that’s not the lesson?

“Slow down,” you say?


You’re breaking up… I can’t hear you…

Until Wednesday, take care.


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