I have always thought of myself as a rather low-maintenance person. That has changed. I'm about as high maintenance as they come these days.

Let me tell you what happened.
Saturday morning I was invited to photograph some catamarans that were sailing up to Annapolis to the starting line of a yacht race. The sailor who invited me arranged for a motorboat just for me to ride in, chasing the cats. It was SO FUN! I was sitting up on the bow of this little motorboat, mainly trying to get the sailboats ion the frames. I got some great pictures that I will post once I can get back over to my PC.

Anyway, I decided to adjust my position and, as an inexperienced boater, I stood up rather than scooted down to the bench that rimmed the deck. A wave pitched the boat and kind of catapulted me forward into the boat.

As I was falling, aside from embarrassment, my primary concern was for my camera. (It is fine.) It all happened so fast. There was a ladder on the deck.

The next second was flooded with pain. When I looked down, my ankle was the size of a nerf football and my foot was pointing about 45 degrees to the right. It was sickening.

Fortunately, Mark was with me. Once he got situated holding my leg in his lap, I heard him ask our boat pilot, Ed, to secure my camera. He did and then covered me with his jacket and called 911 before speeding off on an excruciating ride back to the marina.

I tried to get to the happy place I had been in yoga the week previous, focusing on my breathing. I was having trouble focusing.

We were met at the dock by a strong good Samaritan who fireman-carried me up to the marina. I was only there about 5 minutes before the EMTs were there. In a few moments, I was taking my first ambulance ride (no sirens) and recieving my first dose of morphine. 10 mg. It didn't help.

At the hospital, the gave me dilaudid, which didn't help either. I asked Mark to cover my foot because it was grossing me out.

After x-ray they came in to re-locate my foot. I have only seen this done by Mel Gibson in Lethal Weapon, so I was a bit nervous. Actually, I freaked out, begging for more drugs, weeping & wailing. But the wonderful Debbi Smith was gentle and kind of hugged my foot back into place. The relief was immediate. They splinted me up and I could finally enjoy the pain-killer cocktail coursing through me.

Tomorrow I return for screws and plates. I have two breaks in my fibula and one in my tibia. It's my right foot, so I won't be driving for 6-8 weeks. There's a lot I won't be doing.

But I have been overwhelmed by offers of help: cooking, cleaning, taxi service. I am taking it all, just banking some offers for future use.

Thank you to all you wonderful people. Despite obvious evidence to the contrary, I am one of the luckiest people I know.

I'm off to take more percocet now. I'll get back to you in a few days. Thanks for all your energy and thoughts.

I broke my leg on Saturday morning. I have never experienced pain on that level before.
I stood up at the wrong time on a boat and the next thing I knew, my ankle was swelled up like a football and my foot was pointing off about 45 degrees to the right.

I will write more later, but right now my percoset level is pretty high and I'm feeling sleepy. I am hoping to get to the doc today to get the surgery scheduled for sooner rather than later. Apparently I need some screws. I knew I was screwed Saturday morning.

More later.

Fourteen years ago from this moment I was delighted to receive my first epidural. Katya had been reluctant to part from me, despite her cramped quarters, and I was exhausted. The epidural allowed me my first sleep in two days, even if it was only an hour or so before I was back to work.

Right now, this beautiful teenager is sleeping still, having stayed up, probably 'til past midnight watching "The Wizard of Oz" as background research for the play in which she was recently cast as the Wicked Witch. Her friend who was cast as Dorothy joined her. They are tickled to have been cast together in this play. (Katya usually gets a day off of school near her birthday due to Rosh Hashanah. THis year it lined up perfectly.)

Kat's brother & sister just worked together to mix up her birthday cake and get it in the oven. Of course, being 14, 12, & 10, they swing between enjoying each other and raging against each other. But mostly they enjoy each other.

Recently, my youngest wanted to sleep in braids to acquire fluffy hair. Kat meticulously installed 15 braids, transforming Suzy into a charming medusa. Suzy kept them in for days.

Before this school year began, my son requested Kat's presence on his back-to-school clothing shopping trip. He has been increasingly interested in his appearance, even if I still have to nag him to shower. He said he would only select clothing that met Kat's approval. She's in high school this year and therefore is wiser in these matters of fashion. It was a win-win-win. Kat could feel proud of her brother. He felt confident that first critical week of school. I enjoyed their mutual admiration.

Although there is still a great deal of mothering ahead of me with Kat, more & more often I feel the growing friendship between us that I look forward to for decades to come.

I did something I haven't done in ages that felt wonderful:
I emptied my e-mail inbox.
I leave things in there as a type of to do list. I didn't dare hit send/receive.

It's like having the laundry "done". It is only "done" until the dryer stops, or until we change into jammies for the evening - and even getting that close is a rarity.

Not that I don't have a to-do list, but at least I'm caught up on one aspect of it.

My lawn mowing service hates my yard. Last week the owner knocked on my door and explained how he & his staff draw straws each week to see who gets stuck mowing my yard. He says he tries to hold his breath the whole time he's mowing.

I've been trying to water more. I recently investigated installing a sprinkler system, but it is so expensive. The problem is my very sandy soil and the type of grass I have. He was suggesting mulch mowing would be better for him than bagging. The poor guy was covered in a powder of grass jimmies.

I don't want to be a problem customer. We'll try the mulch mowing, although I'm afraid all the clippings will end up in the pool, which is why I've been having it bagged.

I don't even own a lawn mower. The ex got the mower in the divorce.

Greeny & Anne jinxed me for getting a good night's sleep. I got to bed late anyway last night. My youngest daughter was already asleep in my bed. Just as I had gratefully dozed off, Suzy began channeling an ancient incarnation of herself, speaking in Atlantian or some other ancient, long-forgotten tongue. It was almost coherent. Maybe it would have been more so if I had been fully awake. Whatever she was saying, she was saying it passionately, leaving me only one clue in English at the end. "The jockey will know" she stated before lapsing back into sleep.
What jockey? Her step-mother rides horses. Does she know something about my daughter? Were they related in a past life?

I just poured 8 beers down the drain. Five of them were Bud Light cans that have been living in my fridge I think since January. Someone else bought them to my house. I have put them out at every possible gathering, but apparently they are just not appealing to many. But how can you throw away beer?

The other three were new guys: Miller Chill – Chelada style. What the hell is “chelada style”? Again, they were brought beers (is it beer or beers? Is it like deer?) that looked promising in their festive summer bottles. But honestly, they, left an aftertaste of vomit in my mouth. I really didn’t want to serve them. I couldn’t drink one, despite the good will with which they were brought to my home.

So today I was getting ready to move them back from a cooler into the fridge and decided I didn’t want these dead-weight beers around anymore. Time to make a decision, to make room in my fridge for drinks I enjoy. I feel mildly relieved.

Have you been having a hard time parting with things you are not crazy about?