Spent the weekend knocking out, sweeping, and bagging old plaster from the second floor. Now we’re working on hanging drywall, which is onerous work.
We had all the windows open, fans going, and surgeon’s masks. I still felt like with every breath I was sucking in lungsful of smokey plaster dust.
Derek has done something wonderful, magical, by compiling several writing technologies (he offers the links in his post).
His use of maps is spot on for what I had envisioned using time-space mapping for mom bloggers, though I had also imagined a third gestalt, a narrative layer. But he simply uses the blog entry for this, and I think it works amazingly. Kudos, dude. What I spent two semesters in the geography department for, he gets through a little futzing. Well, a lot futzing. But still. I have academic envy. 🙂
Last night I awoke partially to see an outline of the J-baby teetering at the top rail of his crib, attempting an escape. My body reacted before my mind could fully wake, and it leapt from the bed to grab him so he wouldn’t fall. (Foolishly, since he is quite an accomplished escape artist now–he slides easily to the floor like a fireman. He wouldn’t have even hurt himself.)
Because I was literally still half asleep, I’m not sure of the exact logistics of my leap. All I know is that instead of leaping to my feet, my feet got caught in the covers and I crashed into the side of the crib and landed on my right knee. The force of my body falling to the floor then yanked my feet from the entangled sheet and my feet SLAMmed on the floor.
My crash knocked J back down into the crib, and he began crying. I was crying because I thought I’d shattered my big toe joint. Brian went to get an ice pack and ended up stubbing a toe of his on something (a toy, I reckon) in the living room. We’re all howling in pain and fear.
I got up this morning and could NOT SKIP OUR RUN. I’ll explain why: my dearest friend Deb, the superstar whom I trailed for 26.2 miles and who keeps me running on a near-daily basis, had a job interview today. AND SO DID I. Because we both have been commiserating about our fates as jobless, penniless, welfare-receiving-and-foodstamp-getting teachers if neither of us is gainfully employed this fall, it was FATE that we were both called to interviews on the same day.
To skip the run would be to tempt fate.
So I hobbled out at 7 am this morning, thinking that it hadn’t bruised that badly, I probably was not crippled. And we ran a meager 3 miles. While streching down by the river, we witnessed a large snapping turtle (or a box turtle? can’t remember) digging a hole and laying her gelatinous ping-pong ball eggs.
Then, the toe didn’t hurt too much.
OOOh. That was then. Now my toe looks like it’s got a purple bunion growth the size of a walnut. I can’t even get my foot into a shoe.
But our interviews went well, we think. (Except I said something stupid and giddy at the end of mine, like “This is the last time you’ll see me in a skirt.” Duh. I hope they forget I said that.)