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?

I went watchless today. I chose this uniformed position primarily due to vanity, but nevertheless, I was unsure of the time all day long.

It was kind of freeing, but only because of my schedule today. It's nice to ease the stress about how much time do I have left before I have to (fill in the blank).

Anyway, I have to buy a new everyday watch. The water that seeped into my comfortable, elastic banded Timex when I was floating down the icy Boise River with some excellent friends a month ago, finally caught up with the ticker.

What are your most important considerations when purchasing a watch?

I was ambushed by algebra when I walked in the door.

“Hi Mom,” my oldest said. “Can you help me with this?”
She had to identify the variables and write the equation. When was the last time I did this? It wasn’t remarkably difficult and she got it with a little prompting. I said,
“That was kinda fun. It was like a puzzle.”

Eye roll

It occurs to me that I am reaching the ceiling of helping my kids with math. I never took anything higher than Algebra 1 and Geometry. A few years ago when I was at my sister’s, her daughter asked if I could help with a math problem.
“Sure!” I responded enthusiastically, flattered that she asked.
That pride quickly deflated when she showed me the problem. Synthetic division. Was this the polyester/rayon version of the denim algebra I was familiar with? I read back through the section. whoa. I was further behind than I realized. I could not help her in the time I had. I would need to take a class first.

I pointed out her options:
Take a stab at it and be sure to ask the teacher tomorrow
Phone a friend
Call Grandpa

Calling Grandpa is a desperate measure, although I’m sure he knows synthetic division – and not just that it needs to be tumble-dried on a low temperature setting.

My niece chose option number one.
I went home and remember to shift the laundry.

My youngest, who is closing in on ten, just discovered the joy in "Me & Julio Down by the Schoolyard" by Paul Simon. When she wanted to play it again to learn the words, she asked me to please not sing along so she could hear better.

That was a tough request, even though I don't even know all the words.

"I'm on my way. I don't know where I'm going. I'm on my way.
I'm taking my time but I don't know where..."

What songs compel you to sing along recently?

I've been intermittently reading two books on punctuation:
Spunk & Bite by Arthur Plotnik and
Eats Shoots & Leaves by Lynne Truss, which I originally thought was a diet book.
Both are great and both have me thinking about my writing in different ways.

So with these thoughts of punctuation reorganizing in my head, I enjoyed my son's recent punctuation misunderstanding.

I had gathered my children together to declare that they needed to maintain a list all week of the items they keep getting told they need for school, or for upcoming sports and scouts. I would not, could not run to the store every day for one thing at a time. I reminded them that they could list books that they were told they would need. Then I said, "Kat needs 'To Kill A Mockingbird.'"
Kyle was startled. He didn't hear the quotation marks or see the capitalization. It hadn't occurred to me that he didn't know this was a book title. Hasn't everyone heard of this book? Apparently not.
"What?!" he sat up, alarmed. "Why the violence?"
charming huh?
So once I explained it he grinned, "Oh, Suzy needs a bridge to Teribithia and Kat needs to kill a mockingbird."

Have you had any recent misunderstandings regarding punctuation?

I'm working on balance.

This freelance work puts me in charge of my own schedule, which ultimately is a great thing. The problem is limiting the time that my mind in "on-duty" for work. Because I often can do personal errands during "office hours", and because so many events I am required to attend are very early or evening, I feel like I need to be "on call" from like 7am until 9pm. Those are extreme hours and not always required, but it still doesn't seem to be enough.

I have to actively focus on not worrying about an unfinished article or open ad deal. After 9pm, I just can't check my e-mail anymore. It stresses me out. Then I can't fall asleep worrying about who I need to call tomorrow. Of course, it's not just work: Girl Scouts, youth group, lacrosse, family & friends.

E-mail takes so much time to manage. I do like e-mail as a means of communication. It is less insistent than a phone call.

I have a new phone that I am still learning. When I get a call I have the options to "silence" or "ignore." Good reminders. One of my pet peeves is when someone answers only to say they can't talk and will call me back. Why not let it just go to voicemail? Isn't that its purpose?


Would this be easier to compartmentalize if I went to an office? Probably not. Everyone is stressed out. I need to go to yoga.

The thing I'm studying for recently is an adult Sunday School class coming up for the fall at my church. I have a delicious topic.
My class is called "The Uncensored Bible." We will be looking over several of the Bible stories that are too racy to be included in children's material and rarely covered in sermons: drunkenness, human sacrifice, gory murders, incest, public orgies, genocide, kidnappings, rape, and all sorts of mayhem.

Why study these? These ancient stories have survived thousands of years, supposedly for our benefit. They are, in a way, our family histories. It's good to know our stories.

I have a great grandpa about whom I know virtually nothing accept one story. During the tensions leading to the US involvement in WWII, Charles Preston tarred and feathered a German-sympathizer and ran him out of town. He did a brief stint in jail and shamed the family. His children were sworn to secrecy. But guess what story is the only one passed on to his great grandchildren?

So what I'm wondering is, do you have any racy stories in your family history that you are glad to know? How does knowing them change anything?

I've been busy entertaining, working, running my children around, shopping for back to school, dating, and studying actually. As a result, I've neglected some of my domestic responsibilities - including weeding. My front garden looks too terrible to show you. But this one weed that took over a little wrougt iron table turned out to be a beautiful Morning Glory.
Sometimes there is beauty in letting things go.

Last weekend we were lucky enough to have some old friends come see us for the weekend. Our kids enjoyed touring DC together, although it was the hottest day of the summer (until today that is.) They did a great job maintaining proper decorum in the sweltering sojourn through Arlington Cemetery. By the time we got to the WWII memorial, proper decorum had been stretched to far.



Annapolis was fun, as always. We got to watch the midshipmen practicing their sailing techniques while we rode the Harbor Queen. Of course we had to have crabs for the full Maryland experience.
Laura, who you've met on this blog, and I have a unique bond. We are friends because our ex-husbands were friends. So even though they don't communicate anymore, we bonded over our divorces. It seems our exes have some similar issues being big jocks from the same small town. So we had a weekend long psychotherapy session - with margaritas.

Laura is an amazing mother, overcoming odds that most people simply couldn't face. You can tell by how cool her kids are.

Whew!
I'm back and getting caught up from all the fun happenings of summer. Here are a few pictures of our beautiful visit with old friends in Idaho. It was great to see my high school friends and have my children renew their friendship with their children.






I also learned that the less I spent on an event, the more fun it seemed to be. It was a pleasure to watch our children play, unplugged, for hours. We all delighted in the ice-melt Payette & Boise Rivers, climbing on the boulders, and the high desert scenery. Those Boiseans love their libraries!






I came home with jet lag, an interesting new drink recipe, an easy dinner idea, loads of pictures, and a renewed closeness for my friends that I've known for 21 years. What a long strange trip its been.

Thanks Lisa & Big! Thanks J & B! I love you!

Harry Potter Spoiler Alert
Don't click to my comments if you aren't up to chapter 7 yet.
Please don't tell me the end yet either.

I ran out of gas today for the first time ever.
Ultimately, it is my fault and I suppose I should direct my anger at myself. But I'm mad at Toyota too. Here's why.

I have a tank that supposedly holds 11.9 gallons of gas.
I have a computer read-out that tells me the mpg I'm getting on this particular tank: 47mpg.
Although my "add fuel" light was on, I had only driven @450 miles. So by my calculations - and I'm an English major - I still had at least 50 more miles 'til empty, leaving myself a cushion at that.

So my car just stopped and seven different dashboard panel lights came on. I thought it was a problem with the hybrid battery that appeared to be depleted.

No. The service techs said the Hybrid gas tanks are bladders rather than traditional tanks. Sometimes it doesn't "see" the remaining gas. So even though I've driven my Prius that many miles before, I shouldn't let it get below 1/4 tank.

That would have been useful piece of information for the salesman to have mentioned. Everything I've heard is that you get better gas mileage when the tank is low. Hybrid buyers are generally concerned with gas mileage.

Even if I had pushed my car to the gas station less than a mile away, I would have still had to bring it in for service to have the computerized dashboard alerts reset.

So it could have been worse. I have my car. I wasn't stuck on a sweltering day on a busy highway. But I lost 4 hours, $65, and a little of my pride. I didn't even have Harry Potter with me to read.