Life in the slow lane . . .

People are always saying, "I've got to slow down," "I've got to take time for . . . ," "I need to do less."  I know.  I've been one of those people for years.  Just look at the inactivity of this blog, for example.  My goal was to post every Sunday afternoon/evening, but I usually find myself so exhausted after my "full and active" week that I have nothing, nada, zip, zero left in the tank for creative endeavors such as this.  But what do they say about Karma?

A little over two weeks ago, on Thanksgiving Day, I broke my ankle.  I was having so much fun running in the Turkey Trot (a 5K fundraiser for West End Fire Department's community youth programs) and I stepped in a pothole (it actually DID go to China, I think!) that took me right to the pavement.  Broken tooth and ankle followed.  It could have been more traumatic, I admit.  There were plenty of EMT's around (hey, it was a run for the fire department after all . . .) and the Minidoka Hospital's emergency room was SO amazing; I was X-rayed, booted, and home in plenty of time for dinner at my Aunt Kathy's.  Yes, the only real trauma was the number of people (many of whom knew my name, darn it!) that witnessed my apparent clumsiness.  That is, that's the only trauma I believed I had experienced.  I didn't know the real trauma was to follow . . .

Seven days of total inactivity.  Seven days of ankle-elevated-above-your-heart.  Seven days of sitting and icing.  Then began the REAL trauma.  Ten days of crutches, seven of them no-weight-on-your-ankle-at-all days.  I was able to go back to school after the first seven days, but to be at school with crutches was pretty brutal.  (I teach upstairs, and there's no elevator.) However, I survived.  I planned cold lunches to eat in my room.  I planned bathroom breaks for empty hallway times.  I taught from a seated position most of the time.  Things turned out just fine, but I was forced to slow down at this, one of the busiest times of year.  I was forced to let the small stuff go, and I really did begin to realize, compared to hobbling around on crutches, everything really was small stuff.  Instead of cleaning the kitchen stove, I posted last week's blog.  Instead of cleaning the bathroom, I completed 4 scrapbook pages for Anna's book.  Instead of cooking supper and cleaning the kitchen each night, I played word games and read while icing my foot.  Come to think of it, it hasn't been all that bad.  (But am I just saying that because I'm off crutches, walking on the boot, and finally have a clean bathroom?)