Tag Archives: broken foot

Yes, I am alive. And, well…

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Yes, I am alive. And, well…

Actually, I am well. I just wanted to use that title.

What’s most occupying me these days is a two-week girls’ self defense camp I’m teaching at my kids’ school. I’m halfway through and loving it. The girls are so attentive and into it. One girl showed up on day one looking the picture of, “I don’t want to be here, but my mom is making me do this.” However, she perked up quickly and was smiling throughout class. Win!

One of my daughters is helping me and is a dynamo. “I really like martial arts,” she said, and it shows.

One day we did Taekwondo kicks. Not in a position to be doing those myself, I spoke, Daughter demonstrated. Then, feeling nostalgic, she stood on one leg and threw kicks of different sorts in all directions. One student said, “Go, Elise!” And we clapped. Whichever girl she partners with I can ignore because I know Elise will help her with the moves as needed, leaving me to watch over the others.

She’s also multi-talented. For July 4th, she made mini cupcakes. Starting with white cake batter, she divided it into three bowls and put red and blue food coloring into each of the two other bowls. So, not only were the cupcakes striped red, white, and blue (and delicious), she used tweezers (washed first!) to painstakingly embellish the frosting with tiny sprinkles.

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I guess it’s time I blogged something.

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I guess it’s time I blogged something.

I had a bit of a learning curve adjusting to my new normal.

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You’re not going to believe this.

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You’re not going to believe this.

Part of my daily routine is heading to the garden to pick up fallen oranges and lemons and occasionally pull particularly brazen weeds within our garden beds surrounded by thigh-high plastic fencing to keep out Peter and his rabbit friends.

A week ago, when walking by one of the beds, with both feet on the ground, my legs wobbled. I stopped to marvel at how uneven the ground had become in that area thanks to gophers tunneling, desperate for access to the forbidden fruit guarded by tight metal netting beneath the dirt within the garden beds.

I happened to walk a different path through the garden two mornings ago and so didn’t remember that bad patch of earth as I hopped out over the fence, one foot after the other, as I’ve done a dozen times, though perhaps not in that particular spot, at least not since the recent rains deepened and widened those subterranean tunnels.

My first foot landed while the second was in the air; thus, all my weight went into the first as it buckled and crashed through a gopher subway. I yelped and toppled over, thinking, “Oh please don’t let that be something bad. Maybe I only sprained my ankle. That crack I heard was just the wooden stake that holds the fence breaking when I fell.

Only it wasn’t.

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