Grace

As in, I am the epitome of.

Or not, as evidenced by my swan dive onto the subway tracks yesterday. Mug of tea in hand, backpack securely on both shoulders, I was crossing the subway tracks in order to reach the 'inbound' platform. For those of you not intimately familiar with Boston subway systems, the green line is one of the only remaining streetcar style subway lines - the rest go through more metropolitan areas so they more closely resemble the NYC subway system than the trolleys down St. Charles.
I love the green line. It goes through the outerlying suburbs, some lovely parks, lots of green places for dogs to run, next to the campus of Boston College. Just beautiful, especially in the snow. But when it is above ground, you have to cross over the actual subway tracks in order to reach the opposing platform. I do this every day, usually without any incident of major injury, but yesterday was my day. So, proceeding slowly as to not catch my foot on the inside of the track, what did I do. I caught my foot on the track and went down square on my left knee, on top of the subway track, also managing to hit my right hip. Oh the joys of gravity.
I'm not usually a clumsy person. I've never broken, twisted, fractured, sprained, or any of the like injuries that occur to ankles or knees or whatnot. But I have to tell you, Monet would be jealous of the color palate that's decorating my knee right now. As the school nurse said to me, "Yep, you sure did it good."

But since when did I ever do anything half-ass?

Talked to the parents yesterday. They have halfway moved into their FEMA trailer. You know, the one that's been sitting in front of the house for a month now but only in the last week did FEMA see fit to come out and hook up the electricity, water, and sewer. Truly, my folks are handling this remarkably well. Mom has not yet cussed out their insurance agent, and the only person who has sustained any injuries as of late is Oma. Something about a satellite television thing and how she was trying to dismantle it - getting details out of her is like trying to get a musicologist to admit they like the Bee Gees - and it ended with her breaking her arm and having to have surgery. It's heartening to know that she's persnickety as ever and determined to go home as soon as possible. At the same time, any possibility of her being well enough to travel for the wedding is out of the question. This means the reigning matriarch present will be Amparo. I can't wait to see the looks on the Pesci family's faces when I introduce her as my grandmother. HI-larious.

Hope everyone is well this week. And if anyone feels compelled to write twenty-five pages on medieval pageantry and Benjamin Britten, let me know.