"Facing" It

We got pretty angry at Sam last week, so instead of just yelling, we decided to take him out to dinner and a movie of his choice. It made no sense and it actually worked. We all had a great time and came home friends.

We also came home bruised and swollen. Well, I did anyway. Steve had his arm around me afterward as we walked since I was cold, but he and Sam thought I started acting silly, so they let me go ahead in my "weird dance." Except the weird dance was my falling in slow motion. Flat on my face on concrete. They were horrified to see me on the ground and not still walking, but I was calm. I just screamed bloody murder and cried for an hour with ice on my face. And I didn't get the ice cream cone Steve had promised.

I look like a prize fighter, the one who lost. There is parking lot gravel embedded in my face, my eye is nearly swollen shut, and if you like purple or red, my face is your dream. Amazingly, the pain is nearly gone. That must be a miracle. And nothing actually broke, unlike last time I fell on my face. (No, it's NOT a habit; it's been 20 years since I smashed my face and had stitches and a broken arm.)

I had a wonderful Mother's Dad as long as no one looked at me - great food, lots of laughter - except I refused to attend church where I'd have to say, "No he doesn't beat me." After all the previous delays for cancer, blood tests, illness, etc. I now have 10 days left to renew my driver's license. I plan to drive perfectly and not write a single check for the next 3 years. No way is anyone going to ever see that photo.