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The Living Without Series

This is a series of posts that I wrote back in 2006 on living with less stuff. Check them out: liv011Living #2liv031liv04

Coal Creek Farm on Facebook

The Chicken Doctor


The Architect


A Very Painful Day

First day of school today went a little somethin’ like this…

We took the usual family pictures.

You know, the photos where they’re all sitting pretty and smiling sweetly?

It makes their Momma so proud.  Yeah okay…let’s go to school.

And then I slipped down our porch steps on the way out the door.I will be sporting some lovely bruises from my shoulder to my knee and let’s not forget the bloody thumbnail which kept me in touch with my pulse rate the rest of the day, dear God….the throbbing.  Why do finger injuries always hurt so darn much?  My husband had a hard time asking me if I was okay through his laughter.  Did I not mention it took me at least 45 minutes to end the fall?  I’m exaggerating of course, but you know what I mean, right?  No.  You don’t?  Okay, well for those of you that haven’t spent a lifetime falling up and down stairs, let me tell you.  This was one of those falls that I spent three steps slipping and nearly recovering before actually succumbing to the fall which then scooted me half way off the step just missing the giant planter with the iron cone thing that could have made me into a human shishkabob.  When I got to the van my daughter was laughing at me and I was just moaning because…my thumb…ow,ow,ow.  She asked me if she wanted me to drive, but I told her, “No, I need to drive to distract myself from the pain.”

And oh, the pain…my heart, it fell out of my chest and bounced across the parking lot taking this baby to Kindergarten.  Clay cries every year when we take the kids to school.  He can’t help it.  It means his kids are growing up.  I usually have to console him, but today I took our youngest, our baby to school.  I had to hug and kiss him really fast so he wouldn’t see me crying.  It’s the first time I’ve cried about one of my children going to school.

And the flood gates were opened.  So, my sweet husband who was also a bit of a mess took me out for breakfast.

This is probably the best breakfast spot in town.  They have French Toast the size of France…I know, I’m so clever.  They also have cute waiters and great coffee and good old boys that sit around drinking that coffee while talking about the price of motors very loudly.

Warm blueberry scone and warm, blue, throbbing thumb…delicious!  When Clay asked me what I was going to do until I had to pick up the infant-tiny-baby-boy from Kindergarten I said I might stop by the hospital to get an MRI of my body to see how many bones I broke falling down those RICKIN’ FRICKIN’ PORCH STEPS!!!  But, other than that…not much.

And to wrap up the morning…I locked my keys in the van.  I know.  I was busy blowing my nose and dabbing tears and searching for change for the parking meter.  So, Clay had to drive me all the way home to get the extra key.  On the way back to town we had a little conversation about how many times he’s had to rescue me in the last three years and I was certain it was more than twelve, “….and would you mind following me to the gas station because the van probably won’t make it and, you know, I don’t want you to come allll the way back and…..rescue me.”  It’s a good thing he loves me.  This was undeniably a painful day.

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