PH and I were up north this weekend visiting his brother and his family, who are home for the summer from the Middle East.
I got to spend some quality time at the Talbot's outlet with my sister in law. Didn't buy much, but had a great time looking! We also went to a small, charming town with a GREAT knitting store. I restrained myself and only bought wool for two pairs of socks.
While we women went off for our second power-shopping trip of the day, the guys went bike riding (PH is a serious cyclist) and one of them took an awful fall, conking his head, and had to be helicoptered to the nearest trauma center. He was fine, except for some scratches and scrapes and middle-aged soreness. Poor PH thought his aggressive leading of the threesome was the cause of the mishap; his brother reassured him that the victim is notorious as an aggressive skier, runner, etc. etc. and loves speed, so the quick pace PH set wasn't the cause. We got the call and rushed over in time to see how the victim was doing. Very "Rescue 911", the whole thing with the copter landing in a field and getting the victim strapped in and all. Every volunteer fireman in the county showed up to watch the excitement, and the professional paramedics did a great job.
An interesting phenomenon: I found myself looking for the local Episcopal church, checking it out as a possible place to work at some later time. This parallels my newfound tendency to save good ideas or quotes that might be worked into a sermon at some later time. Me overenthusiastic? You think maybe?
PH served as supply clergy for a nearby church of his denomination this morning. I love going to hear him preach - he's so thoughtful and goes to such interesting places. Today was Peter walking on the water, and he preached on fear and anxiety and working outside the box (or outside the boat as in the miracle story) and relying on faith to get us through.
The regular church musicians were away, so we had a teen praise band playing. I love their energy, though as a classically trained musician, the music sometimes doesn't really do it for me. On the other hand, there were two adorable little Eritrean girls sitting down the row from me who were singing along with great enthusiasm. Whatever floats your boat or gives you a hand to get back into it. So much for musical snobbery.
My birthday coming up in a few days. How did I get to be MIDDLE-AGED? I have noticed a number of women referring to their saggy middle-aged bellies as a pooch (I always thought of it as a sort of pouch, like a kangaroo's). It got me thinking of what kind of a pooch. I think I've got Shar-pei belly. My thighs, on the other hand, are overweight dachsunds sitting up on end...
It's good to be back amongst you!