Old

It's no secret that I've been feeling old the past few months. I mean between the cane, the brace, and the limp I often feel that I've aged several decades. Today I've felt especially decrepit (a case of moving offices and giving Meg extra rides meant I climbed at least 45 flights of stairs yesterday alone). But the real sign that I'm old is that on Tuesday five different people stopped me (letting everyone else go by) to ask for directions around campus. I think it's the limp; it must be a sign of sagacity.

It's True

I've gone to the dark side.

The Woodshed, So to Speak

It has been some time since I realized that my life as a gimp reminded me of something--or someone. But it took some time for that realization to filter down to my subconscious so that I could recognize exactly who it was. And indeed, it was a bit of a surprise to me who.

Aunt Ada Doom:"I saw something nasty ... I saw something nasty."
Flora:"Aunt Ada--"
Aunt Ada Doom:"Something nasty in the woodshed. Go away girl."
Flora:"How long have you been in there, Aunt Ada."
Aunt Ada Doom:"Ever since my Judith married Amos."
Flora:"Isn't is lonely?"
Aunt Ada Doom:"Lonely? I saw something nasty in the woodshed. "
Flora:"Did you? What?"
Aunt Ada Doom:"I don't remember anymore. I was little. Something terrible."
Flora:"And it was in the woodshed? Are you sure?"
Aunt Ada Doom:"Course I'm sure . . . or maybe the potting shed. Or the bicycle shed."
Flora:"Or the tool shed? All these years: getting five good meals a day, running the farm, ruling the roost. Everyone doing exactly as you say and sacrificing their lives for yours. It's not bad is it. Just for seeing something nasty in the woodshed."

No, I am not an old and "distinguished" lady nor do I check all of our account books--or any of them for that matter. It is really the last bit that reminds me of my situation: the benefit of being waited on since the crutches make it difficult to carry things about myself. And while I don't quite get five meals a day, three meals more or less delivered to my side still makes me feel quite pampered. On top of that in the last few weeks I have been quite reclusive; staying more or less in the house for a variety of reasons (sickness, tiredness, fear of the top step in the garage ...). So if you begin receiving messages of a peculiar nature on your answering machines, now you know why. Personally I favor "There will always be Sorensens in Rochacha!"

On two partially related notes. There are absolutely no pictures of Aunt Ada Doom on the Internet. I looked high and low but was finally forced to take a picture of the movie on my computer screen. So I do apologize for the glare of the camera/screen clash. Secondly, I promised one of my friends that during my convalescence I would undertake a research project on Rufus Sewell's comparative eye droopiness and I have the results. I believe that it is a characterization method to show the relative evilness of his characters--and that's my final word. Thus in Cold Comfort Farm and Amazing Grace it is really not that noticeable as compared to A Knight's Tale, The Illusionist, or even The Holiday where it is much more noticeable. Incontrovertible proof if I do say so myself.

Friendly Family Bonding

I recently noticed a trend in how my family has spent time together this summer. Now I know we are supposed to hold a formal Family Home Evening regularly--but sadly I put paid to that in my Middle School years--and so instead we have another thing which brings us together. I know, it is shocking, this mystery activity is none other than seasonal reality television! Two years ago my brother and I involved the whole family in watching "Project Runway", but the trend seems to have continued and branched out.

On Mondays there is "Legally Blonde The Musical: The Search for Elle Woods." Truthfully three of us began watching this to humor one of the original viewers, but it is oddly compelling. I think it is because it takes me back to my "theatre roots" (whatever those may be). Plus the bonus is we get to laugh at the ridiculous, over the top, melodramatic responses of the theatrical contestants. All in all it is thoroughly amusing.

Then Wednesday and Thursday we come together for "So You Think You Can Dance." I am not a dancer and I am fairly well assured that I never will be; on top of that I have a deep seeded dislike of contemporary dance and I used to have a healthy skepticism for hip hop. That my friends has changed--well not the dislike for contemporary dance. I was genuinely surprised by how interested I became in this show. And while it does seem to affirm that white boys aren't the best dancers since they have all been voted off at this point, I will continue to watch and enjoy. Also I loved the Bollywood dance that they did this week. I would also just like to note that the host of this show, Kat Deeley, comes second in my favorite reality show hosts. The first is Hiedi Klum as the host of Project Runway; I honestly do find her delightful.

Now these are our only steady shows--I can only divide my loyalty so far. But I have also been enjoying reviewing some old favorites since I've been "laid up." My Mom, my younger sister and I have been watching "Joan of Arcadia." Amber Tamblyn does such a good job of making her protagonist true to life. I could just watch this show again and again and again, and I probably will. I have also been enjoying the delightful bantering of that mother daughter duo. I do so love good banter.

Casting About

It's pretty much official; I love my cast. This is not about a group of people with whom I have created a special bond, but rather a particular--if unexpected--affinity for the fiberglass currently encompassing my left leg. Truthfully, I would of course prefer to have my leg back to normal; seeing, however, that laws of time travel are greatly restricted, that is not possible. And so for several weeks I have been working with and around splints with varying degrees of artistic ace bandage wrappings. This was all well and good, but I never seemed to quite get the right fit between the cotton wraps and plaster mouldings it was either too tight or sloughed around and caused other problems. Oh and don't get me started on how the ace bandages held up to my shower cast protector. But what else makes me sing the praises of my cast? How do I love thee? Oh, let me count the ways. (Elizabeth Barrett Browning)

First, my cast is prettier. In a cool cobalt my cast is much more able to coordinate and add to any and all of my costume choices.

Second, my cast is slimmer and therefore gives my left leg a slightly svelter look.

Third, my cast slides much more slickly into and--even more importantly--out of my shower cast protector.

Fourth, my cast with all its slenderness allows me a greater variety in my apparel.

Fifth, my cast is lighter which makes it easier to hold aloft throughout the whole day.

Sixth, my cast allows greater ventilation.

Seventh, let's just face it, my cast is cooler. I not only get more comments, but admiring looks as well.

My cast is one of the better developments from last week, for sure. But there are some other oddities about my life at present. For one, every time I go to put things on or pick things up from the floor I can't but help to feel like a giraffe.

It is a bit disconcerting. Also it is not all that comfortable to sleep on my left side most because of where my cast/split hits. But it is a small price to pay to go about in style.

Over all things seem to be going great. I am assured by the doctors that all the screws now in my leg were indeed necessary (it seemed a bit like overkill to me when I saw the x-ray last week) and that my leg is healing beautifully. I might argue there as my view of my leg looked rather hairier, more swollen, and indeed more colorful than it ought. But then again, I am not a doctor. Did I ever mention my Orthopedic Surgeon is a Dr. Baumhauer which apparently means "tree chopper" in German? How appropriate. And, as this seems a popular question of late, I have practically no pain. This indeed has been a continued blessing only interrupted for a couple of days after the surgery. I like to think that it is perhaps an indication that I have a high pain threshold, but I have no conclusive evidence. If only my companion and I had both broken our ankles we could compare . . . but it was not to be. In the meantime I will continue to contemplate my cast's finer attributes and let you do the same.

Unexpected Turns, Literally

Dear Family and Friends,

Things were going well; a little too well. All was too quiet on the western front. Tuesday we had an appointment at 1:30 with a lady the other sisters had met tracting several weeks back. She'd asked to have 3 weeks to read the Book of Mormon and then she wanted to meet with us to talk about it. Since the appointment was close to our apartment we decided to take our bikes as I'd hinted at on Monday. We discovered when we arrived that our appointment had invited some of her friends to the "discussion." Her friends were former members who now attend one of the biggest bashing churches in the area. It is safe to say they weren't really interested in learning more, but we did have an interesting hour plus discussion about certain of our beliefs. And at the end when they gave us some time to testify I felt the spirit pretty strongly. Well from there we went to go check in on our recent convert and make some daily contact with her daughter, our newest investigator, before biking home. I was really enjoying the riding and felt pretty proud of myself after making it all the way up a "big" hill on Oak and so I cruised past Sister Pfau on my way down hill toward our place--my tires are bigger anyway. Then as our driveway came in sight I thought to myself, oh I can do this. So I went to turn left into our gravel driveway thinking that I should keep a little speed so I'd make it up all the gravel. Well the gravel and I disagreed about where my bike should go and before I knew it I was over and my bike and I feel directly on my left ankle.

I'll admit my initial thought was "I broke my ankle. I broke my ankle." On repeat. Meanwhile Sister Pfau and Sister Fultz finally caught up to find me sitting on the driveway beside my bike saying, "This isn't good," over and over again. So Sister Pfau went to get the member we live with because she couldn't figure out what else to do. But by this time I realized that I could in fact move my toes etc, so my ankle surely must not be broken. Sister Fultz helped me up and I walked back up the driveway and up the stairs into our apartment where I put my foot up on a chair with some ice on my ankle. But after twenty minutes or so (during which time I just kept thinking to myself "That was so stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.") The other Sisters decided I was in sufficient pain to call Sister Craner--the Mission office medical coordinator. She directed the other sisters to poke my very swollen leg/ankle in various places until they decided that I'd better go to a walk in clinic. I decided I wanted to wash my hands first though, because they were still dirty from falling in the driveway. Big mistake! After a few steps I realized it was far too painful to put any weight on my left leg and so had to resort to hopping the rest of the way to the bathroom. At this point my foot moved in some directions and ways I was really quite sure feet are not meant to move. Finally after much hobbling and hopping we made it to the walk in clinic. After two minutes and a little squeezing the doctor there told me he was quite sure I had broken it and he told me to go to the emergency room. The Craners, however, advised against it and called in an appointment to go to see a local church member who conveniently was also an orthopedic surgeon. But they did wrap my really ugly ankle, gave me the only crutches the office had--which were several inches too long at their shortest setting--and some ibuprofen. Elder Craner and the Assistants to the Mission President, who happened to be in the Mission Office at the time, also gave me a blessing. Long story at least marginally shorter, Sister Perry and I found out the next morning after X-rays at Dr. Hansen's office that I'd broken the skinny bone in my leg right down at my ankle and that I'd also torn all the ligaments on the other side of my ankle and so would need surgery. I just had to laugh. I admit I thought the whole accident and all the events following it rather ridiculous. But this was the funniest. I hadn't even been back a whole 6 weeks!

Well I spent the rest of Wednesday in the Mission Office. Though I did go out to a teaching appointment that night, which I am sure the Craners would not have approved of. Thursday my wonderful companions helped pack me up and we made all the arrangements to get my stuff home (or elsewhere) for good. Then Sister Perry called a last minute Sisters Testimony meeting so I could have a farewell dinner and devotional (something I'd missed since I always find myself leaving before the end of the transfer). I stayed the night in the Mission Home and by Friday morning I was on my way home. I even had to have wheelchairs take me through the airports because I'm a slow hobbler. And so now, my friends I am home for good. The last five weeks were a shorter end than I anticipated, but I worked hard and saw some great growth in the Sisters I was with. Now I just need to figure out what the Lord wants me to do in New York this summer!

Love,
Sister L. Sorensen

Something in the Air

Dear Family and Friends,

It is kind of funny to hear about Elder Sorensen's cold--not that his being sick is funny--because I had a nasty, nasty cold last week too. I was fighting off some symptoms for a few days which I had attributed to "allergies" but Tuesday I crashed. It is kind of funny because I even had gotten a blessing that morning at District Meeting. But when I laid down at lunch I remember thinking that I never wanted to move again. I did have to get up, however, because my cough was getting bad enough that lying down made it really bad. But then I started to have serious chills and simply felt awful--even though all I kept telling my companions was "It's just a cold"-- so Sister Fultz and Sister Pfau (pronounced "Fow" rhymes with cow but actually means peacock) called around and got me a "babysitter." Then I gave in and called the mission nurse on Wednesday and she put me on Mucinex; so I plugged slowly along from there through the rest of the week. Sister Pfau was convinced I still had mono and anxious soul that she is even slyly asked me if I'd lied my way back into the mission. I assured her I had not. But all is on the mend at last, and I am feeling much, much better. So hopefully we'll be back on bikes a bit this week.

Other exciting news last week was that one of our investigators decided to get baptized and we managed to get all of the arrangements done for Friday at 5:00. She was really happy and so were the neighbors (members in a different ward) who had invited her to take the lessons in the first place. She got to the baptism late and she came late to church on Sunday (she'd been out of town Saturday, so we were definitely a little worried there) but all went well. We even are going to start teaching her daughter this week, so that will be great. Things seem to be going well here. Another investigator I'd picked up in Antelope in February is getting baptized on Saturday, but I won't be able to go. It's exciting though.

I hope you're all doing well!

Love,
Sister L. Sorensen