pear-shaped

I am really starting to think the universe is out to get my family. Since January 5th, things have gone pear-shaped, to use my friend Lindsay's excellent expression. First, my aunt died unexpectedly, and this brought with it a whole host of family drama, which I won't go into detail about, but which continues to spiral. This past week (while I was at my first-ever therapy appointment, thank you very much), Lucy had a skating accident -- her fingers were run over by the freshly-sharpened blades of her 14-year old skating partner. We spent 5 hours in the emergency room at AI, and Lucy got 8 stitches. But, you know, it was all ok because we were looking forward to our vacation -- a 2-week trip to England starting on Friday, March 14th.

Cue Saturday. Richard goes down to the basement to clean out the dog pen. The basement floor is wet because it has been pouring rain all day. Richard's croc-clad foot slips out from under him and he pile-drives his knee straight down onto the cement floor. Ambulance is called, we go to Wilmington Hospital (where we received fabulous and attentive treatment, seriously), and it turns out that Richard has broken his kneecap into three pieces
(we are calling it a dinner plate fracture TM). He is now in a knee-immobilizer, and is scheduled to see the orthopedic surgeon to make a plan to put the pieces back together. He is really being a good sport about the whole thing --much more than I am. We are just hoping against hope that he will be cleared to fly on Friday. Word on the street is that Virgin airlines will upgrade us if we can fly -- fingers crossed, dear readers.

I think it will all work out though because this morning, I saw a sign. Not the Virgin Mary in a stick of butter, mind you, or Jesus in a potato -- but for an atheist like myself, even better -- a smily face on a plate. It's a good sign, right?