I graduated

to a boot. It's a high tech boot! It's so cool. It has 3 big Velcro straps, and a little inflatable bag on each side of my ankle. I can pump up the little bags to give a safer, snugger fit. So I'm good to go! But I can't go. I am supposed to sit around for 6 more weeks! Six whole weeks! 42 days, well 41 now, since my appointment was yesterday. I feel like getting depressed, but I'm procrastinating. Procrastinating is normally something I struggle with, but occasionally I can make it work for me. Like I thought about making "The Procrastinator's Diet". If someone procrastinates eating long enough, they ought to lose weight, right? Nice theory.

Grace is still with us. She got her passport in just a few hours yesterday at the American Embassy which is just about 10 minutes from our house. We couldn't rouse anyone there on Friday or over the weekend, even on the emergency number, but we were impressed with their quickness yesterday.

Now we have to wait to hear from Joy on when the rescheduled plane ticket will be. She is waiting for some money, because the airline charges $250.00 for a changed flight, apparently, even when the ticket was stolen on the way to the airport.

Paul hasn't had time to get the car lock fixed, but he and Grace are off in it to Paarl this morning to two schools. He is so pleased with November's schedule. Lizelle scheduled him in 30 schools, all in the Paarl area (not far from where they were robbed). He's only been to one of them ever before. It's an evangelist's dream--that is one of his good dreams. In his nightmares, he dreams he is at a school or church and has some essential piece of equipment missing.

I got out Goodbye, Pie one of the kids' old books this morning, to read to Danielito. He didn't last past page 2, but my 3 big kids hung around attentively while I read this book aimed at 5 year olds. It was funny, and rather a sweet moment.

We need a few sweet moments. I feel like I just sit and boss all the time. It's a whole lot easier to say, "Hurry up and do your chores," when I'm bustling around too. I feel like a hypocrite cracking the whip from my prone position.