I love to travel, but I also love to come home -- sometimes sooner than other times. It wasn't that I had a bad time visiting my son -- we all had fun, and the kids never went out, preferring not to leave me sitting behind but not making me feel like that was why they didn't go -- it's just that I'm happy to be back in my house where it's a little easier to get around. My foot paid a price for our brief outings, swelling that's probably not good for it, but I'm sure that will go away as soon as I lie down and rest. I was really grateful that all the kids -- my sons, one son's girlfriend, and my young associate -- helped me without my asking and without making me feel like I was a pain in the ass. As I've probably said before, I'm not good about accepting help, and especially bad about asking for it, no matter how much I need it.
Fun aside, the mental benefits of spending time with people I love and being anywhere other than my house for a few days far outweigh any inconvenience or minor setbacks that might result from the swelling. I also had the chance to spend the weekend with my little dog, who is staying with my son and his girlfriend until I get my boot. At this point I feel practiced enough at rolling around on the knee-scooter that I'm not afraid of running over her, but I'm not sure I can even fill her food bowl without tipping myself over. On Wednesday I will have my boot; Mazie will come home and life can start getting back to normal.
My weekend away was just what I needed; now what I need is a glass of tea and a foot-propping. So if you'll excuse me . . .
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