As I type today, I’m a one and a half handed bandit. I broke my left pinky falling from Elise’s bike Wednesday night. I was tired and really should have just stayed home and rested. But I biked long and hard. It was getting dark as I headed home and the headlight wasn’t installed on the bike. There was construction on the street I usually take home, so I decided to ride the sidewalk. But there is a place where they joined two different sidewalks and the sidewalk does a quick zig-zag. I knew it was coming, but it came quicker than I expected. I was able to get the front tire across on the cement, but my weight was too far to the left for the back tire which went down in the V between the zags, stopping the bike instantly and launching me into the air. I landed mostly on the grass on the opposite side of the walk except my right knee which has two quarter-sized patches of road rash. I pulled my hands from the grass and noted that my bottom knuckle on my pinky was jetting toward me while the top of the finger bent back. I honestly didn’t think much before I popped it back into joint. It hurt and my hand was useless. I tried to ride home, but the chain was off and I couldn’t fix it with one hand. There was a church in front of me so I walked up to two suited men as they were leaving and asked for help. Dad wasn’t home, so they rode together in one truck and drove me home.
I didn’t want to go to the hospital. But I had pain in my hand which concerned me. So after resisting, I relented and we went back to ER where I have a lot of bad memories from the Ramsay Hunt. The results were much better this time. I chipped a little bone away when the ligament pulled from the bone, so my hand is in a splint. The nurse couldn’t believe that I had fixed the dislocation myself, she said most people come running to them to fix it. That seems silly to me. The worst is that it made my birthday bike hike impossible yesterday.
I had such a funny moment this week. I told you that Parker’s iguana wasn’t doing well. I’ve been on iguana rescue and she is improving. But Parker is “baby-sitting” a little desert lizard for the T boys, nine short months of the year. Well I went in to check on the iguana, feed her and water her Tuesday morning. The little lizard was lying dead on the edge of the heating pad in front of the iguana aquarium. I figured that Parker had tried to revive her and was too late. I almost scooped that lizard into the trash, but I just can’t touch them. In all the times I’ve come to the iguana’s aid, I’ve only picked her up with a long orange rubber glove and had something at the ready to set her in because it just grosses me out. So I decided to make Parker take care of her after school.
So then after school I called to Parker to get Katie the iguana out in the sun and told him to clean up the other lizard. He said, “She’s not dead.” Of course I took exception to that and looked up in the hallway in time to see her leap from his hand to the floor and jump from there. Ahhhkkkk. I almost touched that thing. He had left the lid off the cage and she got out, climbed from her tank by your dresser and the closet and climbed up on top of Parker’s dresser to warm herself, looking as dead as can be. Ewwww.
The apples are picked, lots of red. J brought over some tomatoes yesterday which I need to preserve. Plus I bought a 25 lb bag of beets last week. And by the way, I have one hand. :)
Wasn’t conference so good? I just loved so many talks. I had a thought during Pres. Monson’s. I’ve always thought the beatitudes were speaking in eventualities. But as he talked about the pure in heart seeing God, it occurred to me that when we are pure of heart, we are open to seeing God’s influence in our lives. We really do see Him. And I loved the last session where all the talks seemed coordinated to teach the same truth=understanding=obedience but of course they were not coordinated beyond individuals listening to the Spirit. Pres. Nelson’s talk was so good and Elders Hales and Holland. Sis Marriott. What lack I yet? How can I choose a favorite?
I’ve started a project. Surprising, I know. I’m writing Dad and my love story in snippets, a page or so at a time. It’s been fun. I was a little appalled as I read about my 20 different simultaneous boys at the start of school. I don’t really know how Dad slipped in there and stuck. Except of course that it was right.
I’m terribly inefficient here. I guess I need to close.
I love you. I fasted that you would receive revelation for how to work with your ward, who to approach, what to say. I just know that you will be led. God cares about your work. What better ally can be sought?
We love you,
Mom
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