My left knee is still messed up. I have an MRI scheduled for June 21. Happy early birthday, Patrick!
When I take anti-inflammatories and darvoset, it feels a bit better, but only a bit. It still hurts like a mo’fo when I pick it up off the ground. You know, like when I do ANYTHING.
My girls were already going to my parent’s house for the week because I was going to Anissa’s (*sob*), so now I’m going up there with them so my mom can take care of all three of us. I’ll be the one on the couch being served sammiches and pie.
You think I’m joking.
She’s a good mom like that.
My mom can beat up your mom in a World’s Best Mom pageant. She’d kill you with her passive-aggressive statements and near-to-tears smile.
They live just across the inter-coastal from Destin, FL where tar balls and oil sheen has been spotted, but for now, it’s 99% clear on the beach. That is MY beach.
And of course, with my bum knee, I can’t hobble my way out to the sand without possibly tweaking my knee even more.
But I must go there. I MUST see it before it’s gone. As much as I’d like to think it wouldn’t and couldn’t happen, there’s an extremely likely possibility that MY beach will be ruined for years.
I must go and see it, photograph it, smell it, feel it.
I will find a good place to go and be there without walking too far on my bum* knee.
That or I’ll tell myself, “It will be worth it to completely wreck my knee for getting to spend time on my beach with my girls.”
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*Why is it that I keep wanting to add a “b” or another “m” to the end of bum? Stupid English language and its weird sometimes rules.