Where Have I Been?

I’ve been away for a long, long time. The last two or three weeks in July I was feeling sick and broken down. I had terrible headaches and felt nauseous almost every day. I was just trying to make it to my vacation. I was popping Ibuprofin and Acetamenophin (sp?) like lifesavers, trying to keep myself from sinking under the emotional weight of the last five years—that feeling of failure dragging me down—and the general stress I feel about my life and the dread I feel at the church where I work.

Then, during our last church softball game, on the last Thursday of the month (which I'm now dreading again because this guy who thinks our coed softball team is the most important athletic contest of the year and yells at everyone all the time, is playing again), I broke my finger diving for a foul ball. This delayed our vacation for a couple of days (which we actually needed in order to really get packed) and put my hand in a splint, which I’m supposed to wear all the time, except when I’m showering. I can’t write, or even hold a pen, when I’m wearing it, so I haven’t been writing much.

Finally, on August 4, we rolled out of our driveway at around 6:30 a.m. and drove all the way to Mount Shasta. The next day we drove to Crater Lake where we spent a couple of hours, then on to the Columbia River Gorge/Hood River area (gorgeous, breathtaking, etc.). The next day we messed around in the Gorge for awhile then drove up to the Johnson’s Ridge Visitors Center on Mt. St. Helen's, and then up to Seattle, where we spent six nights and five days visiting with Barbara’s family and hanging out in the area. From there we went to Vancouver, B.C., where we spent two nights, and then to Victoria, where we spent two more nights, and then Port Angeles, where we spent another two nights and a couple of days exploring Olympic National Park. We then spent a night in Aberdeen, visiting one of Barbara’s cousins and doing some genealogical research (and getting a feel for Kurt Cobain’s hometown [where we both want to move, believe it or not]), and then we drove to Kelso, Washington to visit another of Barbara's cousins. Then we made a two-day dash for Irvine . . . and here I am.

I’m ignoring the doctor’s orders regarding keeping my splint on all the time. I’m taking it off to type, and this afternoon I took it off to go surfing twice in the last two days. The waves were smallish, but it hurt like a bitch to paddle. In the words of the orthopedic guy: it’s healing, but not healed.

The depression I feel over my job at the church is killing me again already, but I'm trying to stay away from there . . . it helps . . . at least to the extent that I out of sight can be out of mind. . .