My New Leg

Yesterday marked ten weeks since the accident. The bones are still not fusing and have lost some density below the fractures, but the doctor seemed to think that was normal. The good news is that I now have a cam walker boot which makes me feel like C-3PO. I'm not sure why it's called a cam boot, but I don't care. I can take it off! I came home and showered it for about half an hour. The amazing feeling of being able to scratch it was almost worth the last ten weeks.

Now I'm going to describe my leg. It's gross, so proceed at your own risk.

My leg is flaking, but because it's been sealed in for freshness, it's not dry and flaky; it's wet and flaky. When I first began scratching, the skin caked under my fingernails, and I have what looks like a diaper rash on my calf. The bottom of my foot was covered in yellow callouses, which came off like paste onto my towel. Now I need to vacuum the floor anytime I have the cast off and am scratching.

Hooray for scratching!

Happy Birthday, Uncle Doo-Doo

Today is Andrew's (aka, Calvin, The Kleyn, Uncle Doo-Doo) 21st birthday. Send him your best wishes for a Doo-Doo-riffic year.

The Post That Bloggers Who Update Biennially Insist Is Too Long Coming

It's now been two months since I broke my leg. That means I've had 62 days of enforced free time. And what do I have to show for it? Do you know Ethel Squat's nephew Jack? I have no motivation to do anything, and I feel no remorse for the time wasted. Isn't that a form of depression? Sigh. I am a fat, worthless load. Oh, wait! I do have a Sim City with 100,000 residents, and of the dozens of applications I sent out, I've received one rejection letter. Christianity Today sent me an assignment. I did it, and I got no response. But since I'm on workers' comp, I can't work anyway, so no big deal.

Has anyone been watching the "Evolution Schmevolution" special report on The Daily Show? The last installment is tonight. I highly recommend it.

This weekend I'm attending a conference at Cornerstone University entitled "After Evangelicalism." I edited papers presented at last year's conference, "After Worldview," so I'm receiving free admission, which is why I can go.

Also, Andrew Kleyn, aka Calvin (not after the underwear guy, but after his responsibility absolving theology), turns 21 this week, so I'll be celebrating with him. Wish him Happy Birthday.

Hi mom!

Say hi to my mom.

Request for prayer

This morning Christine's mom was thrown into a fence while riding one of her horses. She spent the day at the hospital being tested for a concussion, fractures, and internal injuries. We just talked to her sister, who said that they are on their way home. The final diagnosis is four fractured ribs and a broken shoulder. No internal injuries so far as we know, but we have to watch her for the next couple of days.

Fortunately, we had extended family over for the holiday, and mom's sister and friend, both of whom are nurses, were with her when the accident occured.

Last weekend

As I said, last weekend was great, aside from having my leg bound in an itchy, Fiberglas prison for four more weeks.

Saturday I attended what threatens to be the last Pie Night. The term Pie Night was coined by Justin "Wicked Good Bee-ah" Stover, my freshman year roommate from Maine (Official State Motto - "Holy porkchop, it went in the puckerbrush!"). Justin has a gift for giving things stupid nicknames that stick. Pie Night is one such example. My sophomore year I decided I wanted to be the disgusting roommate, so I kicked Justin out and moved in with my cousin Chris ("The Dish" to those of you in the blogosphere). Chris's mom makes the best homemade pizza in the world, and every couple of weeks, a group of us would go over to Chris's house to have homemade pizza and watch movies, usually based on a theme (e.g., movies Chris's girlfriend likes). Since pizzas are pies, Justin called the semi-monthly event Pie Night, and the name stuck.

Saturday's Pie Night was stellar. The TV is in the basement, and I didn't feel like scooting down the stairs on my butt like a worm-ridden dog, so I sat at the table upstairs and played games with Racie, the Andrews, and Zach. This is one of my all-time favorite things to do. When I was in England feeling homesick, I was missing playing games with my friends.

For my birthday last year, Christine's parents and brother got me "Betrayal at House on the Hill," the greatest board game ever made. We played a couple rounds of what Andrew's girlfriend Mary dubbed "Hell Game," and then we played "Ex Libris," a game I picked up in Oxford. If you've played "Balderdash" or the Dictionary Game, the premise will be familiar. All players receive a sheet of paper, and the reader draws a card from the box. The card has the title of a book, the author, date and summary, which the reader reads (thus earning the title of reader). Then the reader flips a coin (in England I got a pentagonal coin with a book on the tails side, which seemed appropriate). If the coin lands on heads, all players create a plausible first line for the book, while the reader writes the actual first line from the card. If it is tails, the last line is used. Once everyone has finished, the reader reads (again) all the lines, and the rest of the players pick which line they think is the real one. Players receive one point for guessing the correct line and one point for every vote their made-up line gets, and the reader gets two points if no one guesses the correct line. You could play this game with a stack of books and a notebook, and if you read a lot or have friends who are English majors, I suggest that you do.

The rest of the weekend I spent with family. Chris leaves for grad school in Toronto tomorrow, so we had a farewell drink on Sunday.

Vive la Pie Night!