Celebrating the Ordinary

Many things are difficult with one hand: Buttoning jeans (Thanks, mom). Driving (Thanks, Travis). Cutting steak (Thanks, Casey). Turning pages in a book (Thanks, Ashley T.). Setting up camping chairs at the drive-in (Thanks, Mackenzie). And blogging (uhhh….. about that…) Typing with one hand takes forever. So yeah, my absence from the blogosphere has been excused for a while, but now that I have moved back in to my own condo, started driving again, and even managed to do a French manicure (after two hours on the bathroom floor with polish on my knees, arms, forehead, lips, and a little bit on my actual nails), my excuse is over. And I am glad to be back! I just didn’t feel like myself for a long time.  I was weak and fragile for far too long. And boy, did people notice. I thought I hid it well, but I was constantly reminded by my coworkers and friends that “This just isn’t you. We miss the old Emily.”  (Perhaps they noticed that I snuck to work in black yoga pants a few times? Nah…) Plus, my physical inability to perform ordinary tasks combined with my independent determination to never ask for help didn’t mesh well. And my bum arm won. I asked for help. A lot of it. So thankful to be surrounded by people to help! I lived at home with my parents for over a month.  My sweet mother drove me back and forth to Nashville every day. And she washed my hair. And she fixed my meals. And she did practically all other two-handed tasks for me. She was my left hand. Yes, I know. I owe two people extra-nice Mother’s and Father’s Day gifts. And probably Birthday and Christmas, too... I was a bit whiny.

So here is where I am now. I have recently downsized from a hard cast and sling into a removable splint. People keep asking if I am just dying to get out of my casts and splints. Nope. My arm hurts when it isn’t supported so my splint is welcomed with (carefully) opened arms.  Plus, I like to think that it makes me look athletic.

I feel like I should be roller blading with this thing on.

The splint will stay for a few more weeks. The plate and screws? They stay forever. At the end of the month I will be flying to D.C.  I’ll let you know all about the metal detector issue then.

The x-rays

Being dependent stinks on ice. But slowing down? Sometimes it’s nice. 


I had many walks on the Greenway with my parents and BFF. 


Picnics at The Parthenon with people who know my heart. 


A hockey game with my sister and some friends.

Ally LOVED the people in the penalty box

Cotton Candy colored sunsets.

Lunch at The Chocolate Covered Strawberry with a favorite friend and her sweet daughter. 


Walks on the farm with mom on 70 degree winter days.

Someone Pinterest this outfit. A shirt 4x my normal size, a sling, a banana clip, and black rain boots. Hot.

My first drive-in movie night of the season: The Lorax and Hunger Games with my girls. (I’m glad we were in a car and not a theater because I asked lots of questions.)

More dinners at the table instead of in front of the tv. 


A huge reminder that Small Town America is a powerful place to be born and raised and a beautiful place to call home. Fight Like A Girl.


Afternoons to read my March Book on the porch swing while having a Homemade Lemon Mint Slush (Ice, fresh squeezed lemon, freshly chopped mint, and a little agave nectar).

Plus an occasional visit from the farm cat. (which is a big deal for me considering I am NOT an animal person)

Bootsie

Primary voting. I love democracy. 


Oh, and right as The Bachelor finished up, the most talented season of Dancing with the Stars began. Perfect.  Although DWTS is not appreciated by all.  Last Tuesday a big Kentucky fan asked me if I saw “the big game”. To which I replied, “What game?”. Wrong answer. I was watching ABC. Duh.

And when I was finally ready to move back to my condo? I was welcomed home by a canopy of prissy pastel pink petals on the most adorable, girly little tree right outside my door.

I was also greeted by month-old laundry waiting for me in the dryer. A dish washer full of dishes, and a dying Valentine’s Day rose bush that had scarcely been watered.  It was as if time stood still here. Which, it sort of did. Most of my clocks have yet to spring forward. Oops.

But I’m back. And yeah, I took a detour or two, but after feeling like I’d never feel normal again, the crazy anesthesia has worn off and I am now fully aware that I am alive and well. And now I have a greater appreciation for the ordinary. Take some time to celebrate it. It’s the beautiful little things in our days that build bold and beautiful lives.