Where To Start?

I have been thinking for a lot of years on a project of great value to our family, as well as great expense. Sometimes it's just a passing thought, other times an intense study of the what ifs and the how-tos. Usually though, it's a middle of the road sort of dreamy thinking, as in "how amazing would it be for this to really happen?"  And then, just when you least expect it, the time has come.

Sorry, this is not about babies.  Nor are we taking a fabulous trip.  No new pets, please.  And business ventures? Um, no, thanks, we have plenty of those.

So what has held my interest for so long?  It's simple really.  A mix of concrete, stone, tile, screen, and oh yes, water.  Lots of water.  A pool.

I know some things we want: a slide, a big pool, good amount of entertaining space, a kiddie play area (calf deep), a hot tub.  I know what we don't: a generic pool, a poorly planned pool, no landscaping to soften it.  I know what we aren't sure of:  screening, depth, slope in our yard, MONEY.  Sometimes you  just have to bite the bullet.  Shawn finally gave me permission to go ahead and start consulting with some "experts".  He said that yesterday.  First thing this morning, guess what I did?  First meeting is set, just waiting for the others.  

So, this is a possibility, sort of what I have been thinking. What have you been thinking?

Valentine's Dance

Katy went to a Valentine's Dance tonight.  I bought her a new outfit at Old Navy, blew her hair dry, and painted her toes.  She said she felt very grown-up and very confident!  Now that's my idea of success, confidence for her is hard to come by, so Momma got what she wanted out of it.  Katy had a blast, wished it would have lasted longer (2 hours was plenty for me, though.  Hanging out at WalMart is not my idea of fun.  Especially when I really don't need anything!)  She looked lovely, and said she can't wait to go again.

Hot Tea On A Cold Day

My boy just woke up, and first thing he does? Take Momma's hot Lady Grey tea and guzzle it down.   He puts the cup down saying, "I hate hot tea.  It tastes nasty."  This from a boy who drinks hot tea every day. Go figure.

Yeah, it must have been really "nasty"!

Hey, That Hurt!

On Monday, I went to get the stitches taken out of my foot. Three little stitches, so small and innocent.  One poor little abused foot, having taken a beating like it's never known before, waiting for relief from the itching, and sure that this will be a good thing.  Um, NO.  It wasn't.

To start with, it appears that the top of the foot is skin and well, nerves.  No fat, no muscle to cushion, to absorb the pull of the thread. I am happily perched on the cold, paper-covered table, my foot propped up, sock removed.  The nurse comes in and readies her suture removal kit.  I am happy to see it.  These darn stitches have been itching more and more every day.  She slips on some purple gloves, opens the kit and takes out little scissors.  I look for some sort of tool, anything that might be an ingenious way to get the three tiny knots out from their cozy burrow down the length of my foot.  There is nothing but the aforementioned scissors, and a pair of turbo tweezers.  Uh-oh.  I feel a flash of queasiness, but chat with the nurse anyway.  She starts to tug on the first knot, closest to me, causing a small stab of pain.  Her brow furrows as she says, "Hmm, this one appears to be pretty well in there."  Uh-oh.  She tugs harder.  I see my skin go with her tweezers, higher than the bone spur ever made that skin go.  Yikes.  She tugs harder still.  The skin goes right with that darn thread, unsure if it ever wants to let go of that which has held it together for two weeks.  I, feeling a bit concerned, pick up my book, a book for kids written diary style, about a girl who lived in Valley Forge.  "January 6, 1778" I read ever so carefully, trying to ignore the tug-of-war descending upon my left foot. "It is bitterly cold, and little Johnny---" YOW!  What was that? Apparently, she has given up on the first one and moved to the second one.  The only upside being that this one comes out after only two or three tugs and a quick little snip of the scissors.  She might as well be sliding nerves out of my skin as thread feels no better.  Phew, one down, only two to go.  She checks out the third knot, closest to my big toe.  "This one is going to hurt, it's almost covered by skin," she says calmly.  Oh, I guess the others weren't supposed to be a big deal.  I might be in trouble here.  I read on, outwardly nonchalant but gritting my teeth and saying an indecipherable prayer that I might be on my way soon.  Really, really soon.  The next tug darn near gets me off the table.  At this point, I am thinking the thread might as well stay.  They've been there long enough, they are pretty much a part of me.  Like a nail in a tree, I have grown around the foreign object, taking it in as if it's family.  I guess I should have mentioned it to the nurse, that I didn't mind if we just left it there.  I would never tell, really I wouldn't!  She ignores my silent pleas, and pulls my skin to the left as far as it will go without tearing (though I was just waiting for that to happen) and snips, part skin, part thread.  "Sorry, but we have to get that out, you doing okay?"  Oh, me?  Oh yes, I am just ducky. I grit my teeth and said, "Yup, just get it out."  Strangely, the final (and first) knot feels little compared to what I just had done.  Ah, it's over.  I am anxious to get that sock back on so she can do no more damage.  I make sure the gauze pad isn't soaking up more than a tad of blood, slide my sock on, hop down, grabbing my book as I go.  I am almost out the door already when she says, "Did they give you your check-out papers?"  Foot throbbing, I am caught.  I wait a couple minutes for the papers and hightail it out of there.  Standing at the check-out desk, the lady says to me, "Was your visit satisfactory today?"  Oh my, um, yes, oh Lord get me out here, I respond, "Everything was fine." "Would you like to take a brief survey on our patient care today?" Hmm, somehow I don't think I can be fair and impartial right now. "Oh, maybe next time," I say breezily.  Good thing my next appointment isn't for four weeks, that should be enough time to forget the torture that has been inflicted on me.

I think it looks pretty good now, but man those little holes were not fun.

My Left Foot. And Sarah's Too.

Call it bad luck, or maybe a fluke.  A jinx, perhaps.  But some things just can't be made up.
On Tuesday, January 25, I had surgery on my left foot.  My bone spur was ground down to nothing, and ligaments in my big toes stretched a bit.  The plan?  This would alleviate some chronic pain of arthritis in my big toe, resulting in what was essentially no upward movement of the big toe.  Walking?  Ouch.  Stairs?  Ouch.  Even swimming?  Marginal, due to cramping in that toe at weird times.   It was time, and I knew it would not get any easier.  The surgery went well, and doctors were pleased.  I came home, not feeling anything below my left knee, hobbling on crutches and sporting a most un-stylish black boot.  Luckily, the pain was not terrible, and I began walking on it the next morning.  The most pain comes from my own torture, when I am supposed to pull the big toe backwards, a move I have not made in three or more years, mind you, until it hurts greatly.  I am supposed to gain 3-4 degrees of movement each day.  Not sure I am accomplishing that, but I do "hurt myself" regularly. I can see progress for sure. My children were entertained, particularly Sarah with my crutches.  I want to try, I want to try!  We lowered them to fit her height and she enjoyed being a big goofball and telling me what a dork I looked like trying to get around.  I was healing quickly, and did not need them past the first day at home.

Fast forward to Wednesday, Feb 2.  It is my turn to drive Sarah and her friend, Emily, to gymnastics in Gainesville.  Everything goes well, and I am playing Scrabble on the iPad waiting for the hour-long class to be over so we can head home.  Emily comes running up and says Sarah is injured and can't walk.  She is crying openly, something that I KNOW is not a good sign.  Sarah can hold back tears like her mother never could.  I support her one side and she hops all the way to the car.  I am sure it's more than a bruise as she can not put any weight on it at all.  We drive home, put her to bed, she goes to sleep.

Next morning, we head back to Gainesville to her pediatrician who recommends an X-Ray.  I say, I know just the place! We hustle over to UF Orthopaedic Institute, where I just had surgery.  Sure enough, fractured.  In three places.  Another $24 black boot.  Another follow-up appointment.  Another Stephenson, hobbling out of the clinic and plopping onto the blessed bench outside, waiting for her ride. (And when I say blessed bench, you better believe I mean BLESSED.  You have no idea until  you run around a building on crutches for a couple hours.  Even Sarah said when she saw it, said "Bench!  Blessed, beloved BENCH!")

So, in a strange twist of fate, here we sit.  My stitches poking out of my left foot, propped on the ottoman.  On the other end of the ottoman, her left foot, horribly bruised and swollen, propped on the pillows her daddy gave her.  Is it a fluke?  A strange coincidence? A bit of bad luck?  Did she jinx herself?  I don't know.  But I do know this.  NO MORE Stephenson children will be trying out those crutches!

Warning:  It is worse in real life.

I lightened it a little so you could see the difference, but it makes the bruise look better than it really is.

Cuteness, And Yumminess Too...

Last night, Katy and Izzy decided to try sleeping in the fort without Sarah. Due to her broken foot, Sarah is not able to climb into the fort.  They dressed warmly, and strangely, and headed out.  They looked so cute I had to take a picture.

It was a rainy night, and for ease of taking of shoes in the fort, they all wore their bootsies!  So cute!

Daddy's hats, jackets, fleecies, jammies, juice, and M&M's.  Check!

Gotta love the headlamp, too.  Thanks for the idea, Spring!

After purchasing a pint of Tamarind-Cashew Sauce at the Cheesecake Factory a couple weeks ago with my Momma, I decided to try making the Thai Lettuce Wraps for myself.  

I made Peanut Sauce, Sweet Chili Sauce, sliced radishes, grated carrots, chopped peanuts, cilantro, marinated Thai-style cukes...

...and technically supposed to be Coconut-Curry Noodles, but having a real aversion to coconut, and not being able to get coconut milk at the market nohow, I substituted half and half, and it worked great!

It was one delicious meal.  And so healthy, too! (Except the half and half of course, but you really don't eat that many noodles!)

Beautiful, and delicious!