Monthly Archives: July 2007
It makes me nervous when we’re 5-ish weeks away from the start of school, and I don’t have my curriculum nailed down. Well, I just checked the calendar, and since I’ve decided to start on Sept 10, that makes it six weeks minus one day until we start. Still. That seems a short time off.
This coming school year, Ethan (5th grade) is going to continue Sonlight Core 3, doing more on his own than ever before so that I can do Core 1 with Grant (3rd grade) and Wesley (1st grade).
I know I’m also going to do Singapore Math with Ethan, which I haven’t yet ordered. Same with Grant. For Wes, we’re going to rip through his Singapore Earlybird that we didn’t get through last year because Wesley’s writing skills weren’t up to par. (His mental math skills, though, are fabulous.)
For science, I still haven’t settled exactly on which texts I’m going to use with Ethan. I have it “narrowed” down to seven from which I still need to choose. He is going to be doing Earth Science, emphasis on Geology, further emphasis on Rocks & Minerals. For Wes & Grant, I’ll do the Sonlight Science 1 which isn’t fabulous, but is solid (and free, since I already have the materials).
For English, we will continue Ethan’s trip through Rod & Staff English 4, which we only got 2/3 of the way through last year. In defense of my slowness, Ethan also did a lot of other English activities, including journalling and additional spelling work. Grant is only about 5% of the way through Rod & Staff English 2; he’s been behind on his English due to fine motor/writing issues, as well. For Wes, I think I’ll probably do Explode the Code, in addition to continuing First Language Lessons.
So. Still to do is
- Decide on a science curric for Ethan
- Get our Core 1 stuff out of storage, and organize it
- Order Maths for E & G, and ETC for Wes
Hm. I guess that doesn’t sound like so much. Still. I don’t like it hanging about my conscience, telling me, “You’re not ready for school yet, Karen!”
Thursday, my family and my friend Shellie’s family spent a really ideal day north of Sedona at Oak Creek Canyon, in one of my favorite childhood campgrounds, which has now been changed to day-use only: Banjo Bill Picnic Area. I’ll detail the trip in another post… The significant thing for now is that Shellie & I picked a whole bunch of blackberries which grow thick around the picnic area, and we’ve been eating and baking with them over the last few days.
Here’s a recipe I came up with to take care of both a few overripe bananas and the berries. It is gluten-free and casein-free. It uses Kinnikinnick Bread & Bun mix which is GFCF, but does have whole egg powder in it; otherwise, this recipe would be egg-free, too. I love using Kinnikinnick Bread & Bun Mix — it has a great texture, and has enough binders in it that no additional binders (like xanthan gum or guar gum) are needed.
Makes 18 muffins
- 1 c. Kinnikinnick Bread & Bun Mix
- 1 c. sorghum flour
- 1 c. sweet rice flour
- 1 Tbsp + 1 tsp baking powder
- 1 c. packed dark brown sugar
- 1 tsp. ground cinnamon
- 2 medium or 3 small very ripe bananas, mashed with a fork
- 1/2 c. cooking oil
- 1 Tbsp egg replacer, or 2 eggs
- 2 tsp raspberry extract
- ~about~ 1 c. rice milk (see below)
- 1 1/2 cups fresh blackberries (or other fresh berries)
Line muffin tins with 18 paper baking cups. Preheat oven to 375*.
In a large bowl, blend the Bread & Bun Mix, sorghum flour, sweet rice flour, baking powder, brown sugar and cinnamon with a whisk. Set aside.
In a 3 or 4 cup glass measuring cup, place the mashed bananas, cooking oil, egg replacer (or 2 eggs) and raspberry extract. Blend well with a fork. Add enough rice milk to the ingredients in the measuring cup until you have a total of 3 cups wet ingredients. (If you use egg replacer, this will be approximately 1 cup rice milk. If you use real eggs, this will be approximately 1/2 – 2/3 cup.) Blend wet ingredients well with a fork, and add to dry ingredients.
With a rubber spatula, blend the wet and dry ingredients. This will make a thick batter. When the ingredients are well-combined, gently stir in the berries.
Spoon into 18 paper-lined muffin cups. Fill baking cups 3/4 – 7/8 full (in other words, almost full of batter). Bake about 22 minutes, or until muffins are lightly browned.
Muffins taste great either warm or cold.
Intellicast is on a browser window at our home now, nearly nonstop, since the monsoon season began. We excitedly watch the cloudcover online and outside, willing the rain-heavy clouds to come our way. It has rained here both yesterday and today. That doesn’t seem all that much, probably, to most of you. But we had a really dry winter and no rain, so far, this summer; I think it had been more than four months since it had rained here.
Calling Phoenix’s monsoons “monsoons” might seem laughable to folks, say, in India. After all, we still only get a total of about 7.5″ per year of rain here. It is still a desert. However, we go from about 5-10% humidity to about 30-40%, and from cloudless, bright blue skies, to skies resplendent with puffy white clouds that lend themselves to brilliantly colored sunsets, and which dump three or four inches of rain over the course of 2-3 months.
The last few weeks have seen unrelenting heat… days on end with 110*+ heat. I can’t tell you how joyful it makes me feel to look at our current weather and see it in the 80s. Even a few sprinkles make me pleased, but the last couple of days, we’ve had actual rain, which really makes me giddy. And, it’s not your namby-pamby wimpy drippy Midwest downpour. No, these are storms with whipping winds, frequent lightning, and rolling, cracking thunder. Then, it clears for a bit, leaving sparkling scenery with rain-scrubbed air and the pungent smell of creosote and ozone on the remaining breeze. Ahh….
There’s also water running in the usually-dry creek and riverbeds, and nightly news reports of dorks who think their Hummers are more powerful than the roiling, muddy waters, and who have to get rescued while their Hummer gets transported downstream. Arizona even has a Stupid Motorist Law that says that if you are one of the ones who drive around the barricades, or try to drive through a flooded street and have to get plucked from the roof of your vehicle by helicopter (or however the help comes), then you have to not only pay a fine, but foot the cost of the rescue.
I hate the heat of the Phoenix area, but I really love the storms.
…and I have NOT ONE picture to show for it!! I cannot believe I took NO pictures while they were here. Duh!!
They arrived Friday late afternoon, and stayed through Sunday evening. Our home, while spacious enough for a family of six, felt rather crowded with THIRTEEN people in it. Noisy, too. In fact, in asking my hubby how he felt the weekend went, he paused, and said, “It was really noisy.” Then he said, “Actually, it went really well. But you know how I am with noise.” Why, yes, I do. He doesn’t like a lot of competing sounds, and thirteen people make a lot of competing sounds.
I was really happy, though, because I knew that Martin would really like Darin, Shellie’s husband, whom he’d never met. I was right. They got along great.
The only time Shellie and I got to spend by ourselves was one lone late-night grocery store trip. Sheesh.
Shell’s family is spending the rest of the week in Sedona, and the kids and I are going to go up there later this week for a day. I’ll bring the camera.
In other news…
- My brother-in-law, Adam, is staying with us for a week. He’s been living & working w/ my FIL in Colorado. Adam is doing pavers in our front courtyard, which has been dirt for the nearly two years that we’ve lived in this home. He’s also staining the concrete walkway pads, and I think I may be more excited about the concrete stain than the pavers. It’ll look fantastic.
- I was nervous about booking swim lessons for my kids that started at 8:00 a.m.; I didn’t think I could get all four kids and myself out the door in time. However, it’s been *great.* For instance, today, we had swim lessons, met some friends (the only other homeschooling family from my church — she has two boys) at the Glendale Rec Center for some free foosball, pool, and ping pong in their activity room. Then we went to the park and – delightedly — got rained upon. (When one lives in the desert, one gets giddy about the rain.) Then, we opted for the drive-through at Burger King, because the boys were soaked & sandy, and Audrey was exhausted. We were home by 1:00, feeling like we already had a full day.
- Last night, Martin (and Adam) took the older boys, 10yo Ethan and almost-8yo Grant to see the Diamondbacks beat the Marlins. The boys had earned their tickets from the library summer reading program. Wes, though he earned a ticket, too, can’t go to the ballpark, since it is Peanut Central, and he’s anaphylaxic to peanuts. (That is, stops breathing in their presence.) So, I tried to make our evening special. I made corn dogs, which were semi-unsuccessful (the batter kept falling off, but they tasted good). I also made GFCF brownies from a recipe from a recent Living Without magazine, which I semi-modified. They turned out fantastic!! They were super chocolatey, dense-but-not-heavy, moist, tender, but sort of crispy on the top, which, IMO, is just right. Even my friend Allison, who proclaimed herself a brownie afficionado, said they were “really, really good” and asked for the recipe for a friend of hers. (BTW, Wesley is on a gfcf diet not for autism; he’s gluten-free because he has celiac disease, and casein-free because all dairy triggers an immediate asthmatic reaction. We’ve been g.f. for nearly five years, but c.f. only since March of this year.)
Well, that’s all for now; Audrey’s waking from a nap.
I feel badly, like a super self-focused, non-communal blogger, because I’ve hardly read anything from all my blog-friends in the last 2-3 weeks. I’ll try to catch up w/ y’all soon!!
What with a broken toe, and generally being behind on things around the home, and with the highly anticipated visit of my best friend Shellie, her hubby, and their five kids this coming weekend, I’ve been swamped! Also, we were going to leave on Monday for a week of vacation, and I was gearing up for that, too, but we’ve decided to delay that for a month or so.
- Audrey is talking up a storm. At 15 months, she has a much wider vocabulary than any of my three boys did at this age. She loves three-syllable words, often turning one or two syllable words into larger words, which makes the guessing game of, “What is Audrey saying?” more difficult. For instance, “bobboli” equals “bottle.” :D We still haven’t figured out what “boppadoo” means…
- An absolutely fantastic book I just finished yesterday is called In this House of Brede by Rumer Godden. In short, it’s about a widow who joins an English Benedictine monastery to become a nun. It is tender, powerful, emotional w/o being sappy or trite, well-written, gripping, insightful, tense, sad, joyful… So many books that are “Christian” are satisfied with poor artfulness… and so much good art in books just leaves me feeling slimed. This book is a pinnacle of both: good art + good message. (The title above is linked to Amazon, since they have some good reviews of the book and more information in general on the book. But better copies at better prices are available at Alibris. Plus, a new hardcover edition is due out in September.) Many thanks to Helen, who had originally recommended it. I bought a copy for my cousin, Jeana, who is a Benedictine nun at a monastery in Indiana. She told me that she’d never read it, but she knows a couple of nuns and monks who regularly read the book as a reminder of the purpose and the joy of contemplative life. On the current monastery homepage linked above, Jeana is pictured at the top of the page, in black in the picture above the text “Join Us.”
- I got a haircut! Might not seem blogworthy, but when one gets a haircut only once a year, max, that’s news. It’s funny, though: What seemed a *HUGE* change for me — I got six inches cut off, plus added a few bangs, which I haven’t had in more than 10 years, and some serious layering — got virtually no notice in church. NOT that I was hoping for tons of compliments or anything, but only like three people noticed. It’s obviously not as significant to others as it is to me.
- My dear Diamonbacks are on a skid!! Even Micah Owings, for whom I’ve been very hopeful all year, has dropped from a 5-1 record to a 5-5 record. Ugh. I still love baseball, even when watching it seems sort of masochistic.
In another post, while referencing IHOP, I mentioned that Mike Bickle had once given me a glass of water. My friend Lisa asked me to expand on that, so:
It started by me being lured to Alaska by my Aunt Phyllis. She promised me that boatloads of money could be mine by processing fish. Pay was fantastic for a college student: $18-27 an hour, and I could live with her, so I would have no expenses, except for my plane flight. Wow. So, early May through early August of 1992, I was a resident of Ketchikan, Alaska. However, due to the vagaries of the various fishing seasons, there wasn’t much work for me; it turned out that, that year, most of the money was to be made right when I left, and into the early autumn. So, I left Alaska with only about $100, or what was left after paying for my flight. It was still a fantastic summer, and I have no regrets about going.
The reason I left when I did was to attend a worship festival — think Woodstock for Christians — that was to take place in Langley, British Columbia the first week of August. You can find all sorts of outdoor, multi-day festivals for all sorts of music now, but back then, fifteen years ago, they were pretty uncommon. The festival was put on by the Vineyard in Langley, and was to have all the really influential Vineyard worship leaders at the time, including Brian Doerksen, Kevin Prosch, Andy Park, Terry Butler, the violet burning, and others. I was so looking forward to it.
The only problem was that my flight placed me in Seattle, not Langley (which isn’t too far from Vancouver). I thought that it would be relatively easy and relatively inexpensive to find a place to stash my big duffle bag and get a bus ride to Langley. Well, that turned out to be a, “NO” on both accounts. There were no overnight lockers in the Seattle airport, and the cheapest place to keep my bag for the five or six nights I would be gone wanted $40, which just wouldn’t do. I had only that $100, and that had to get me to Canada and feed me for a week, so I couldn’t spare it. I did find a bus ticket, but I couldn’t find a route from Seattle directly to Langley, only to the US/Canada border. I had to stay overnight in the Seattle airport, and by the time I had paid for a couple of meals, some snacks for the trip, and my bus ticket, I was down to less than $40.
I figured that, once I was inside Canada, I could find another bus to take me to Langley. I envisioned a rather metropolitan place, as the map showed towns dotting the roads from the border along the roads into Langley; it appeared to me that all of it was just one big suburb of Vancouver. I was wrong.
I also had a bit of worry from the multiple signs on the bus, and at the border crossing, informing those coming into Canada that no one would be admitted with less than (I think it was) the equivalent of $100 Canadian, which was about US$140, fully $100 more than I had to my name. I tried not to let my face belie my beating heart, as I stood in line and listened to the border guard grill each bus passenger — he was asking everyone how much money they had. Finally, it was my turn, and the guard unzipped my giant duffle, and smilingly asked where I was headed. Thankfully, all my accomodations had been taken care of beforehand, and I could honestly give my destination. It was the dorms of a local college, and he wanted to know what was going on there in early-August, before classes started. I told him about the worship festival, with which he was very intrigued. He couldn’t imagine a bunch of folk getting together to sing “church music” for days on end. We talked about that for a while, and then he zipped up my bag and sent me on my way. Whew!! No mention of money, bless God.
However, on the other side of the border crossing was nothing. Just grassy fields, a few trees, and some long, straight roads with hardly even any cars on them!! I had eight miles to go — it was eight miles to Langley. The bus departed, and I was the only one who had not continued on it. It was obvious that the border wasn’t a bus station; there were no continuing lines, as I had thought there would be.
So, I started walking. This wouldn’t have been a problem — I was in good shape, and very used to walking. However, I had an insanely large and unwieldy duffle bag, and I was wearing a pair of relatively new jump boots (combat boots).
The day was gorgeous. It was still mid-morning, and the air was cool, the skies clear, and the green land around me gently undulating. However, it didn’t take long at all until I was very uncomfortable — hot, sweaty, and nursing a number of painful blisters. My shoulders ached from the piece of heavy luggage I was hefting. And the shirt I was wearing was a very dark green tee, almost black, which, of course, made me feel even hotter. I wasn’t hungry; I had enough snacks. But I was very thirsty, and there was nothing in sight — no houses, let alone any stores. There were a few farms, set back from the road, but I was not going to go knocking on any doors asking for water.
Finally, about two miles out from Langley, there was a gas station. I got some water, and my first oddly-shaped pack of Canadian cigarettes. I was somewhat refreshed, but also very, very discouraged. I was tired and hurting, and still had one quarter of my “walk” to go.
I was walking along a two-lane country “highway,” and a semi slowed down and pulled to the side of the road ahead of me. As I pulled up alongside it, the trucker inside opened the door and called out to me, offering me a ride. Knowing it was foolish, I accepted, hoping that Canadians were less crime-prone than Americans. I told the man my destination, knowing that it would only take a couple of minutes to get there. I immediately started getting uncomfortable when he started making complimentary comments about my appearance. Then, he said he knew a “back way” to my destination, which would make it “easier” for me. I said nothing, and started praying like mad. We sped down the road, passing what I knew was my turnoff. He said his alternate route was just a bit further on… just a bit further… just up here… I stopped praying, looked him in the eye, and said with way more authority than I felt, “Stop right now and let me out here.” Amazingly, he stopped. I got out, panting my prayers of thanks and relief to God.
Consulting my map, I saw that he had taken me a good three miles past my destination. Not only had I nearly been abducted, but the whole event added yet another mile for me to travel.
Finally, I stumbled up to the church. I knew I wasn’t actually staying at the church, but I thought maybe I could rest for a bit there, and find out where, exactly, the college was where I’d be staying. The front door was locked. A side door was locked. Around back was one more door; it looked like a service entrance. I didn’t have much hope; there was only one or two cars in the parking lot. But the door opened. A man looked out and said, “Can I help you?” It was Mike Bickle. I had seen his picture before. I told him that I was there for the festival, and was wondering if he knew where the college was that had rooms for festival attendees. He told me it was about a mile and a half up the road.
I burst into tears.
I hadn’t cried that whole time, but now, an absolute flood came out. I was so, so tired. My body hurt so badly. Plus, the emotions of almost getting abducted just poured out. And now, yet another mile and a half to walk? I sobbed.
I don’t remember the exact order of things, but he started asking me questions, and found out that I’d just walked from the border. He was shocked. He called his wife, Diane, and asked her to get a glass of water for me. He called to another guy, whose little red pickup truck was one of the few cars in the parking lot, and asked him to give me a ride. He found a muffin for me. He found a napkin, which I used to wipe my tears and my nose, apologizing. He sat with me on a curb, and chatted with me for a bit while I ate and drank. He told me his name was Mike, and I didn’t let on that I knew who he was. When we got up, I said, “Thank you, Mr. Bickle” and he smiled.
The festival is a whole ‘nother story, full of fabulous, rapturous, glorious worship for hours on end, and also a minor story of unrequited love. This is the cover of the CD from the event, thanks to this site for the pic. That’s me, on the cover, in the middle of the photo, with my black violet burning tee (which I still own), a fabulous silver bracelet (which I, regrettably, lost), and very short hair. The CD is still listed at www.worshipmusic.com, but it’s out of print.
The apparent ineptness of the staff at the urgent care facility has turned into a major blessing!!!
I just got back from the orthopedist’s office. They took new x-rays, and the break is NOT on the metatarsal. It’s the 5th proximal phalange on my right foot (the biggest, lowest toe bone). Now, my toes are really, really long, so my proximal phalanges are longer than your average person’s, but still…. you think medically trained professionals would be able to tell the difference from a toe and a foot.
(Courtesy of http://www.podiatrychannel.com/anatomy/)
And, the break is not displaced. So, all they needed to do was tape my pinkie toe together with the toe next to it, and have me wear a hard-soled velcro-closing shoe/boot thing. I have to wear it 24/7 for two weeks, and just in the daytime for an additional 3-5 weeks. So, no swimming, and the thing is awfully unattractive. But, compared to the idea of surgery, I’ll take it!!
Thank you, Jesus, for taking care of me!!!!!!
First, thank all of you for your prayers and well-wishes on my foot. I see the orthopedist on Tues or Weds (I’m waiting for a call back from them to see if they can fit me in on Tuesday). After that appointment, it’ll be a lot more clear how “serious” the situation is. I’m really, really, really hoping that the bone is not displaced, and that they can just give me a walking cast.
Anyways. The following crazy thing happened on Friday and I had to write about it.
There is a family with whom we’re very close. In fact, the youngest daughter, Bethany, was the flower girl at my wedding. But, she’s mostly grown up now, and will turn 18 later this month. After graduating high school this past May, she applied for an internship at International House of Prayer (IHOP) in Kansas City, and was accepted for a six-month term. (IHOP is a world-renowned ministry that focuses on worship, prayer, and fasting, headed by the former Vineyard pastor, Mike Bickle, who — literally – served me water after a long, hot journey, 15 years ago, but that’s another story.) Bethany left on June 26 for her six months.
Friday, I was praying for her, and the thought of someone else popped into my head. I have long known that if someone spontaneously comes to mind while in prayer (or even while not in prayer) that it’s most often the Holy Spirit promping me to pray for them. The person who came to mind is a neighbor of ours named Chad. Chad is 19yo, totally “out there,” completely abandoned to Christ, a wildly on-fire Christian. He looks like a surfer dude, with crazy blonde hair and frenetic personality, like ADHD for Jesus. :lol: Here is an excerpt of a report he made a month or so ago from Africa, where he was on a mission trip, ministering to AIDS victims in South Africa:
Yesterday we had a rough time working with the kids, but today God broke through after we spent the last few nights in hardcore intercession. It has been awesome to activate the team in the prophetic. We have been abounding in dreams and visions and prophetic words. … God is great and worthy! We are still pressing in for Him, because our God is into big things and miracles are sort of his forte. hah! yay God.
So there I was, praying for Bethany, and I think about Chad… then I think, “Why didn’t I think of this before? Chad’s the most on-fire-for-God guy I know, and Bethany is the most on-fire-for-God girl I know. When she gets back in December, I think I’ll try to introduce them.” Then, less than an hour later, I got an e-mail from Bethany with a report from IHOP. Now, she sent the e-mail out to a lot of people, not just me, but that was the first time I’d heard from her since she’d left. I quickly wrote her back, and after a little deliberation and about 10 seconds of prayer, I decided to mention Chad.
The next morning, Saturday, I saw Bethany’s mom, Sheila. She was bursting, and said, “Did you get a response from Bethany?” I hadn’t, so Sheila told me that right after reading my e-mail, Bethany went to her car with a friend. Right next to her car was a guy that Bethany knew — she had heard that he was in KC, as well, but hadn’t yet seen him. They greeted, and then he told her that he was off to Nashville for a big prayer rally that was happening the next day, Saturday. He said, “A friend of mine from Phoenix came up to join me… Hey, you’re from Phoenix! His name is Chad.” He introduced Bethany to Chad.
Then, they drove away, with Bethany not connecting the dots. It was her friend that said, “Hey, didn’t that e-mail from your friend mention a guy named Chad?” Bethany called her mom to see if “my” Chad led worship at such-and-such church (he does) and if he has crazy blonde hair.
That’s right. The very same Chad I’d e-mailed her about that very same morning was sitting in Bethany’s friend’s car, there in Kansas City.
I talked to Chad’s mom last night about it… she told me that when Chad gets back on Tuesday from his trip, that she was sending him over to get the story from me. She was blown away by it, too.
Bethany says that Chad is not “her type” and honestly, he’s not. She’s more attracted to the tall, dark and emotional type, not the surfer-dude-for-Jesus type. Still. There has to be something to this. We’ll just wait and see what it is.
Last night, Martin and I enjoyed a date night. However, our initial plans didn’t quite pan out. We were going to go to a sort of local rec center where
I was going to watch him show off his mad ping pong skills we were going to play ping pong. But the place was overrun with tweenagers, none of whom were “seriously” playing ping pong. So, we left, unsure of what to do next, besides eat. Then… we passed by a bowling alley. Martin grew up bowling with his dad, and has some serious-looking bowling style. However, he is also Bionic Man with super-sensitive senses, and absolutely cannot stand to be around cigarette smoke, which bowling alleys are typically full of. So, in our 12.5yr marriage, we’ve gone bowling about three times. But, since the Smoke Free Arizona law went into effect a couple of months ago, it came to me that even the bowling alleys no one would be smoking! So, we went. Well, we went after dinner, and after a trip to Wal-Mart to get some socks, because neither of us had socks on. We had a lot of fun, with Martin “only” getting 151 on his best game, and me getting barely half of that. (Note to bowling alleys: You need to get 8 lb balls with large thumb holes for the big-thumbed, occasionally-bowling wimps.)
Anyways. It ended up being a late night. After we were home for a bit, Martin went off to bed, and I went out to the family room to watch the news, which I like to do late at night. Sometime close to 1:00, I found myself dozing off, and I started myself awake. With an unfortunate mix of adrenaline and drowsiness, I stumbled, badly stubbing the pinkie toe of my right foot on a nearby heavy chair. Not wanting to wake anyone up, I writhed in quiet pain for a while, then crawled off to bed.
Morning came, with me awaking to my dog whimpering at my bedside to be let out. Martin, who usually is the one who lets the dog out, was already on the back patio for a time of quiet prayer and Bible reading. I leapt out of bed, and promptly crumbled on the floor.
I have birthed four children with no medication, and have shed no tears doing so. I was, however, in tears over my dumb stubbed toe. It hurt like the dickens. (Whatever ”the dickens” are, they must be really painful.)
Martin, by the grace of God and some hard-won maturity, now handles unexpected and stressful circumstances much better than he used to. Blessedly, after a short walk to collect his thoughts, he kicked into action, taking care of everything this morning, including making scrambled eggs (with pepperoni, of all things, which everyone loved). We decided that I would still go to a scheduled girls’ worship team practice at church, and afterwards, I would go to urgent care. I did just that, making it to urgent care by 11:45.
When I emerged at about 20 after 1:00, I was sporting a soggy splint (it’s made of water-activated mesh, the kind they make casts out of), feeling oddly relieved. I had felt awfully, awfully silly walking into urgent care saying, “I stubbed my toe.” But, when the x-rays came back showing that my toe wasn’t broken, but my 5th metatarsal was, the med tech who had been treating me with a casualness that suggested that my situation wasn’t serious quickly altered her demeanor, and whipped out the preparation to splint up my foot. (The doctor, blessed may she be, never did exhibit an aura of stubbed-toe-belittling.)
They said they couldn’t tell from the x-ray if the break is displaced, and that I’d be getting a call from a radiologist after s/he reviews the x-rays for more info about the break. I asked to see the x-ray. The break extends in a diagonal line an inch or so long from the inner side of the bone up to where it meets (or nearly meets) the joint with the bottom bone in my pinkie toe. I’m to call an orthopedist on Monday. The urgent care doctor said that it was likely that I’d get some sort of cast, but that it was, of course, up to the orthopedist how to treat the break.
I guess I can’t say now that I’ve never broken a bone. This is the first one, at age 34.
Add this to the long list of weird cr@p that has happened to our family the last few weeks. After I emerged from the urgent care center, I had a *great* conversation with my pastor’s wife about the last month or so. We agreed that whatever the enemy had in mind, like if it was to drive a wedge between Martin & I, or if it was to upset the peace of our home, or whatever, it wasn’t working. In fact, I am feeling increasingly grateful for my very dear hubby, who now is even more than what I longed him to be 5, 10, 12 years ago, and despaired of him ever becoming. IOW, if this is a test of, “How are you going to handle stress???” he’s passing it with flying colors, and I have nothing but love for him in my heart. :) I’m very proud of him. Plus, he’s cute. :P And we had a great time last night, not playing ping pong.
No bowling for me for a while, though.
Do I blog about clothing? Rarely. But, I strongly advise any woman who wants a cute tee for $5 to get yourself to Target immediately. The tees are a soft, fine-guage knit, 95% cotton, 5% spandex, nicely fitted, and with cap sleeves. For me, they’re a perfect length — not super-long, but long enough to cover my extremely long-waisted body and still wear moderately low-cut jeans w/o showing a hit of skin.
They have v-necks and crew necks, but I don’t like vees…. Anyways, I think the crew neck ones are cuter because the heather varieties even have a cute floral screen print on the lower left side which wraps around the back. Both the v- and crew-necks have about 8 colors each.
Here they are online — crew-neck & v-neck – but the selection is much better in the stores. They’re sort of hidden by the women’s department. Actually, in one Target, they were close to the workout clothes (they’re actually Pro Spirit brand), and in another Target, they were hidden between the maternity and women’s sections. These are not plus-sized women’s — an M fits my size 10-12 body perfectly.
Go get some!!