Ok. I haven’t posted anything all week. I’ve been busy with swimming lessons, ball games and practice, helping with the reading contest forms for the library’s reading summer reading program, VBS planning for the end of July (have I told you I’m the VBS director at church?), considering job possibilities, helping Mark with his missions trip support letters, feeding people in my house, maintaining minimal sanity, and doing a little laundry.
So today, I run out to get a little wading pool for the kids to use in the back yard. I bring it home, blow it up, and fill it with water. On my way across the yard to pick up the hose and put it back in its place, I step over the patio wall and knock over a stone slab. It lands on my calf/ankle. I now have a big scraped wound on my calf and my ankle is swelling. It’s sprained, but not badly. And, yes, it is on the same foot as the broken toe. Sometimes life is funnier than Seinfeld (or the comedy show of your choice).
Some who have stopped by my blog in months/years past may remember that at least one time, I mentioned severely injuring my toe. As it turns out, my mother-in-law and sister-in-law in recent years have also had severe toe injuries. I have joked that there is some sort of curse on the toes of women who marry Horne men.
The curse has returned. Today while at the pool with the children, I put 2-year-old Charis on the side of the pool near the ladder and told her to sit there until I could get out and get her. In an effort to get out quickly (and to not give her enough time to jump back in the pool) I was hurrying up the ladder. At the top of the ladder, I slammed my second toe into the concrete of the pool wall. My second toe and my big toe were practically in a “Y” shape. After “snapping” my second toe into its regular place, I diagnosed the toe as broken. Now, 8 hours later, the toe is very, very purple, swollen, and sore.
Last week we headed east to see my mom and some of my extended family. The children were excellent travellers, apart from the occasional “is that the hotel we’re going to stay in?”
Mom lives in Western Pa. In past years, the Amish have been slowly migrating from east from Ohioa and West from Lancaster County to settle in the countryside surrounding my hometown. They have quite a large community there now, and one of the things my kids wanted to do while we were there was to “see the Amish.” So in typical voyeuristic American style, we drove through the areas that now are Amish communities where we passed a few horse-drawn buggies, and saw the Amish people out in the fields working. We also dropped by an Amish store to pick up a few goodies, and the children enjoyed talking with the Amish lady who ran the cash register (mechanical, not electric).
Our trip to the Amish was on our way home from the cemeteries. Every year on Memorial Day, my mom makes her journey to the graves of her parents, her siblings, and her husband to plant flowers and tend to those that were planted before. As a child, I remember spending half a day making this trek and thinking how I would rather be doing something else. This year, I drove my mom to the cemetaries, and I was happy to be with her; I was also happy to have my children along. I think I now understand a little of why she always made me go with her when I was little.
After 3 days with my mom, we headed south to Nashville. Our drive from PA to TN was the worst part of the trip. It was just sooooooo long. However, after we arrived, we had a good night’s sleep and spent the following day with a couple of friends from our pre-seminary church home. We enjoyed seeing the Owens, and we had fun visiting a couple of Nashville landmarks–The Hermitage (home of Andrew Jackson whom we studied at the end of our year of homeschooling) and the Parthenon, a replica of the real Parthenon in Greece that sits in the middle of Centennial Park in central Nashville.
We arrived home Saturday night. It was a pleasant trip, but as always, it is good to be home.
P.S. In relation to my last post, now all the laundry is certainly not done. Oh well.