The day is finally here and I'm kind of excited about it. I'm within a few short hours of heading out of the house and into the cold Alaska night where I will link up with the rest of my group of future travel weary travellers. We will gather, check to ensure everyone who is supposed to be there is there, pick up things like weapons (not me of course, I'm a chaplain and we are peaceful folk), march to the local gymnasium where we will wait for approximately 37 days to board a bus for a 3 mile ride to the airfield. At that point we will gather some more. Once that's done we will watch our plane sit for an additional 15 days until such time as the crew feels it is safe for us to board. At long last we will get on the plane and begin our trip downrange (which should only take about 6 days). That's how it will go, or so it will seem. In reality, by this time tomorrow, I'll be halfway to halfway around the world. These kinds of things take time, but they generally go smoothly. Generally.
Today, as I was waiting for the waiting to begin, my wife and I had a few hours to tie up some loose ends while the kids were at school, such as having the car serviced, enjoying a lunchtime date, and breaking a portion of my foot. Yep, you read right. Since I had some free space in the house earlier, I decided a good thing to do would be to jump the couch instead of casually walking around it. So I jumped. But today my couch jumping judgement was not a little off and my trail foot didn't quite make it. Really just the pinkie part of my trail foot. The result was me rolling on the floor saying in a not so quiet and composed voice and tone, "I'm certain I broke my toe!" There really was no way to be sure short of seeing a doctor with the exception of going so far as to take my sock off. So I did. What I saw confirmed my beliefs. It's not that my toe was swollen, although it was just a bit. And it's not that it was discolored, although that also was true. What really clinched it was that my toe, which normally is very good friends with the next toe over seemed to want nothing to do with it's neighbor to the point of nearly moving out of the state. It's angle, in relation to its ex-friend was something in the area of 75 degrees off vertical. If it were my big toe, it would have been pointing at my other foot. You get the idea, it was nasty. So we jumped in the car and headed to the ER. A couple hours, several x-rays, and some excruciating taping of one toe to another and I was headed home to enjoy the last few hours before heading out. For a brief description of that that will be like, see paragraph 1.
So the day is finally here. And, yeah, I'm excited about it. But only because you can't come home until you leave.!