Sticky

Saturday night, around 7:00, after spending the entire day working in the yard, 

we decided to clean up and quickly drive to Apex, 

for dinner at Culver's, a family favorite.

(Harvest burger, yum yum yum).

On Sundays, I usually bring flowers to church for the pulpit.

I saw some Queen Anne's Lace on the side of the road near our pastures 

and asked Christian to pull over on the way home from dinner 

so I could pick some for my church arrangement. 

He did, I got out, walked toward the flowers, and then, 

in the dark near-midnight hour,

I didn't see the big ditch right in front of the flowers, and I fell into it.

I laughed it off and waved to everyone in the car, like,

"I'm an idiot!  I'm totally fine!"

I could hear laughing from the car; I was laughing, too!

Then I realized something was super sticky in my sandals.

I didn't have my phone or any light, so I just kept picking flowers

until I noticed my foot was sticky and sore.

I sat down, and Christian came up to me with his phone flashlight.

"Are you OK?" he asked me.

"Yeah, my foot is wet, I must have fallen into some water in

the ditch there."

Christian shone the light on my foot and it turned out it wasn't water; 

it was blood. Sticky blood.

And a lot of it.

I had a huge cut on the side of my right foot.

Good thing we had a stack of Chipotle napkins in the car!

Anyway, so everyone fussed over me,

and Claire, my wound care nurse, told me I needed stitches,

but I disagreed and asked her to just bandage me up.

But it really hurt to walk on it.

Like, I didn't go to church the next day pain.

You better believe my flower arrangement 

at the pulpit was amazing, though.

 Happy Memorial Day!

Thinking about my AMAZING heritage

like Harold Jones (my Papa's brother)

who at age 23 died in Italy, flying airplanes in WW2

He looks like my brothers.