Only I would sprain the heck out of my ankle two days before my husband leaves for a weekend seminar. In Seattle.
Only I would sprain said ankle doing something totally uncool. (Slipped off the concrete steps taking the garbage out. Lame.) The last sprained ankle I had was on my mission. I'm pretty sure seven years without a sprain is a record for me.
Luckily I have so many great friends who dropped by to keep Sophie entertained or bring us dinner. Or to put peroxide on my scratches, bandage my ankle, bring me a brace, and check on me five times. (Thanks Natasha!)
After Steve left, his mom, Judi, came to rescue me. Otherwise I would have cried all weekend from being overwhelmed. She was my angel this weekend.
I'm back on my unsteady feet (mostly), both girls are fast asleep, and Judi's on her way back to Sac. I think I can handle the next 20 hours until Steve gets home.