Protect your ankles.

Apparently, the universe is in some sort of war with ankles this week. First, my friend Kevin sprained his ankle playing basketball, and has to have crutches. Second, my poor mother was out for a walk, slipped and fell, and broke her ankle in 3 places. She gets to have surgery in the morning, where 3 screws will now make a home in her body. OUCH! Good thing Steve and Issac are still hanging out in my basement.

In case you were wondering, Steve and Issac are my crutches from when I had knee surgery. They were faithful companions and got me through some rough times. They rode with me when I commandeered an electronic wheelchair at the grocery store and then backed into a tower of paper towels (yes, it really happened). They survived a hijacking by my chemistry class and they were first-hand witnesses to me falling on my face the first day back at work. My mother will surely be in good hands.

As for me, I'm going home to find some athletic tape and my old ankle brace. Just in case.