Silent Spring

Yes, I realize Rachel Carson one-upped me on a book title, but I was looking at the archives of my blog and realized just how little I've posted this month. Wish I could tell you I've been building up anticipation for a good post, but frankly, I've either lacked the inspiration or the time - mostly time. But final exams are done and I'm ready to progress into the next few weeks, getting ready for DC and a final class or two this quarter.

If I'd have posted a week ago, this would've been another post including my apparent guardian angel. Because last Wednesday (Ash Wednesday), I was at the rec center playing ball and running up the court on the heels of a guy. Frankly, we were down 40 plus points, so I'm not sure why I tried so hard, but I did. I clipped his foot, rolled my ankle and felt all of my muscle build-up in my ankle the last two years just rip away. This is where my wife tells me I'm clumsy, and the nice lady at the rec center (who it turns out doesn't have blond hair) gets me some ice. Yep, it's all gone.

In case you don't know, I do have a bit of the clumsy in me. It was a clumsy accident that started all of this when I fell into a tractor rut warming up for a church-league softball game. I played through the day, even gimping in for a run, but basically couldn't walk for about 2 months afterwards. The doctor happily told me I hadn't broken my ankle, but forever I will wish I had. He filled out a business card length list, longer than a Brazilian grad student's list degrees, of abbreviations for ligaments which he said I literally snapped in half. So I'm back to the beginning, but recovering quickly. I think I'll be able to walk the court and do some simple hook-shot moves by next week with the help of new shoes and some braces.

But that's been my life for the past week or so. Limping around the house, getting either laughed at or tenderly cared for by my wife and dragged around on the leash by an unsympathetic dog. Needless to say, my determination to stop swearing for Lent has been less than fully successful - but I occasionally remember to hold my tongue rather than lash out or mutter under my breath, and for that, cheers to a quieter spring season. It's harder than you think, especially if you follow Spartan basketball.