My new name is Grace! Hi kids! Oh my goodness, I know I�ve been gone for a while. However, I was not, in the words of the lovely and perpetually horny smashthegas, �Slumped over a bar, drunk as a skunk in a funk�, nor had I tripped off to the �rent�s house to deal with them . . . I was in fact, mostly about and simply not writing. I was in a funk, to be true � I have to remember that I do suffer from clinical depression and when the weather changes (or it doesn�t change, as it does here in Arizona, when it�s still 100+ degress F in October, fer chissakes) I sometimes go into a major state of ennui, wherein I wasn�t following the Weight Watchers� plan, I wasn�t exactly going to Curves� to exercise, I wasn�t writing here . . . in fact, I really was just playing Pogo�, knitting furiously, and watching bad horror movies. I had gotten from Publisher�s Clearing House� a DVD set of (supposedly) 50 horror films, but in actuality had about a dozen old horror movies and the rest were episodes of the HBO Ray Bradbury series and a British television serial that I came to find out was called Tales of the Unexpected, originally hosted and mostly written by Roald Dahl. The odd thing about the British series was the silhouetted dancing girl in the credits while a tune played that could be only described as something you�d hear a calliope play in a creepy run-down boardwalk carnival. Each episode was pretty pat, although there were some decidedly creepy ones, such as the episode about a young girl who gets followed on a bus and runs to safety, only to find that the woman�s house she runs to is owned by the creepy guy who�s chasing her. Ewwwwww. In the knitting world I finished two pairs of socks � at least, a lovely sweater that I can�t wear yet (I purposely made it a little small), and a matching scarf made out of the leftover yarn from the sweater. Yes, yes, pictures will come along. Eventually. I�m not completely out of the funk yet. Or perhaps, I�m in a new funk, created by a little accident I endured when the Hubster and I went on holiday . . . So the Hubster and I went to Williams, which is up on old Highway 66 (get yer kicks), from where we caught the Grand Canyon Railroad to the Grand Canyon. We had a lovely time on the way up � we had seen a �Wild West� show at the station and were full of grub from the breakfast buffet. On the way, we saw a herd of pronghorn antelope, and a lot of cows. The canyon was very nice (still a big hole in the ground) although it was packed with people and cars. I don�t know how I feel about that � obviously people should see the Grand Canyon, but why are there 6000 SUVS there? Eaaaaaaaahhhhh. Anyway. We only had 3 hours at the Canyon, so obviously all we could do was walk along the rim, and we took a shuttle bus out to an overlook point. We were walking along a path, and I was looking at the Canyon, thinking, �Wow, it�s really clear today. I can see clear across to the other side. Oh dear, now my ankle is totally twisting and I�m about to fall down very very hard.� Actually, the only thought I probably had at the tail end of that stream of consciousness was �wha?� as I fell off the path (but not into the Canyon) which was unsettling enough, as I sprained my ankle and crashed onto my left knee, left elbow, and right hand. That would have been painful enough except that I also managed to land on the camera long ways and I drove that sucker right into my ribs on the left side, right under Agnes. The camera sustained no damage but I was certain I�d broken all my ribs on the left side. I lay on the ground a while, bringing the concerned cries of several women and a small crowd. By the time I�d rolled over onto my back and finally opened my eyes, Hubster was standing over me with an odd smile on his face, and the first words out of my mouth were �Why are you LAUGHING??� Eventually I was able to stand and I hobbled over to a bench and we sat and ate some lunch and then we walked a mile back to the Canyon village and then we walked around some more and then a bunch of Korean tourists wanted their picture taken with the Hubster. Smile! Kimchee! Seriously, though, why the Hubster? On the way back on the train, we were serenaded by a young man and his banjo � a very good musician, by the way, and of course, the train was �robbed� by the same cowpokes from the �Wild West� show that morning. Hee hee. This is the same train line who does the big �Polar Express� train ride for the kids for the holidays. I do have pictures, but they�re still in the camera, which yes, did survive the fall and the compression into my ribs, although my ribs aren�t doing so well . . . I have been to the doctor and they assured me that they aren�t broken, but now everytime I move my left arm a certain way, I feel a sort of grinding next to my sternum so I�m not convinced that a rib isn�t actually separated. I just know that I can pop Vicodin� like House and I still am in considerable pain. I�m going back to the doctor tomorrow, which was the first �urgent care� appointment I could make when I called yesterday. �Urgent Care� appointment one an a half days later? �Urgent Care� my patootie! I have lots of pictures to share and some more news but I can�t divulge everything after such a long absence of the scotvalkyrie. Don�t want to give you tummy upset, do we, sweetypies?? My little possums?? Hmmmmmm?? Kiss kiss, see you later. . .
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