I'm So Hoppy!

 Our last week of Shelter lunch, and it was my turn to host.  Everything was done because the menu was leftovers from all the Memorial Day weekend festivities, and it was all in the fridge, just waiting for us.  Wow!  Look at me, being all ahead of the curve.

Then, with 3 kids to drive to 3 school within the next 5 minutes, I twisted my ankle walking out the front door and went down.  False bravado aside, it HURT!  Actually, there was no false bravado.  I was just writhing around on the porch, clutching my foot and hyperventilating.

"CALL.....uuuuuuuuuuuggggggg!....DAD!..aaaaaaaaaaakkkkkkkkk!.....TELLHIMTOHURRY!!!!  BRINGMEAPILLOW!!!!!"

Pant, pant, pant.  Scream in agony.  Breathe.   Groan.

I managed to send Freestone walking with 5 ballroom dance costumes and a 6-foot spear, for his assembly.  Even in extreme pain, I still manage to bark out orders.  Scott took forever to get home, because he had to stop and help Freestone, who was leaving a trail of costumes along the street.  So sometimes my ideas aren't the best.  Speaking of which, I thought it would be best if Scott took Golda to school and I took Ruby to seminary, so they would both have a chance of being on time.  Ruby helped me hop to the car and prop my foot up on the dash.  Driving down Mutton Hollow screaming in pain, I told Ruby, "If I pass out, just lunge over here and step on the brake or something."

For some reason, she looked alarmed by that possibility.  Thankfully, I made it home and hopped to my bed.  I was going to cancel lunch, but heck, I wanted to see my friends!  And it was all ready to go!  And Coco came over to herd the babies while I laid on the bed and fumed over things going so horribly off course.  Black and blue foot, not in my plans for the last week of school.  I think I scared Ruby with my hopping.  (Incidentally, I sold our crutches on KSL last Friday.  "When are we ever going to need these stupid things again?"  Uh-huh.)  I sounded like Quasimodo, thundering around crutchless, but sometimes you have to get from the ribbon cupboard to the table.  Several times.  It's vital.

I was complaining to Trajan and he said, "You don't get out of the car that often anyway."  It's true.  After Scott came home with a special brace and some ibuprofen, I spent the next six hours driving kids around, which is the perfect thing to do when you're tired of hopping.  And man I'm tired of hopping!  Now, three days later, I'm limping, not because of the original injury, but because of the workout my normally dormant muscles have gotten from all the hopping.  My hopping muscles haven't seen this much action since the 4th grade Double Dutch tournament at recess in 1981.  And I wasn't the champion.  This time, I'm determined to win.  Or at the very least, ignore this injury until it hangs its head in shame and goes away.