Well, technically it was Westlake. A couple of weekends ago, I took a Friday off and drove down to Ohio for a three day weekend with Gil.

I think that this was the first time that Michigan roads were better than Ohio roads.  It used to be that you could tell the exact moment that you were crossing back into the mitten by the sudden crappy pavement. US-23 is more smooth and pleasant to drive than it has been in years past.  By contrast, the normal highways in Ohio have suffered a bit, and the Turnpike has really seen better days.  (I drove it from I-75 east to the I-80/I-90 split, and then back again.)  I have to admit, though, that the raised 70mph speed limit made me feel right at home.

The theme for the weekend was rejuvenation. The pace was relaxed; there was no rushing around or worrying about being late.

We went down to Tallmadge and hung out with Terri and Duncan, whom I hadn’t seen face to face in years. It might as well have been a couple of weeks once we all started catching up on kids, ailments, and craziness. I’m hoping that they can do all they want with their house – their plans are grand and perfect.

Gil had rehearsal for Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson, so I even had a couple of hours to sit and put some words down on paper. The cafe in the Beck Center for the Arts was a great setting for it, too.

Both Gil’s girlfriend and roommate made me feel at home while I was crashing there. I got to know Allison a lot better than I had in our previous (and brief) meeting, and I’ve decided that I’d like hanging out with her whether or not she was dating Gil. Paul was a scholar and a gentleman.

If, while out and about for the purpose of drinking, I ever decide to go back to my mainstay drink – the Jager Bomb – please point and laugh. I didn’t even think about the caffeine in the drink’s Red Bull component. Getting hit on by a woman celebrating her 30th birthday helped forestall the inevitable migraine, as did finding the perfect Irish (Gil says Scottish) pub tucked away in a not so nice part of Cleveland. I don’t care where it’s located, a place as beautiful and stately as that should never be so deserted. It’s a crime, I tell you! The bartender, wearing a vest and a bow tie, made a perfect White Russian.

Last but not least, there were some lessons learned: Spines are good to have. Getting to Tallmadge is like getting to Shelby Township – tons of ways to get there, none of them direct. Mango liquor and cream looks like a tiny beer, and makes a great shot.  Accepting is harder than it sounds. Semantics are STILL important. If the headlight assembly of your Pacifica isn’t coming unclipped as the manual says it should, you’re probably not pulling hard enough.

So, I broke my thumb on Sunday night. On my left hand. My dominant hand.

Well, after the initial visit to Lansing Urgent Care, then the disagreement by their contracted radiologists, and then a visit to my primary doctor, the results are inconclusive.

Either I didn’t break my thumb at all, or it’s a stress fracture that will show up on x-ray in another week. Stress fractures don’t show up on x-ray right away, don’tchaknow.

In the meantime, I’m still wearing the thumb splint. Typing is slower than usual, but not terrible. I just need to keep the thumb out of the way. Writing in a journal or filling out forms or anything of the like is difficult, and looks like I’m trying to write right-handed. Signing my name, oddly enough, doesn’t seem harder than usual, once I get the pen angled correctly.

Chopsticks are right out, though.

Last night, I fell down the stairs while holding the baby.

Luckily, it was only a couple of stairs. Luckily, I was holding the railing. I was half asleep and bringing Acelyn down from her room to nurse. I remember realizing what was happening as I started to fall. I remember holding her tightly to me, and then worrying that I was holding her too tightly as my back hit the stairs. I remember her crying, and then me telling her that everything was OK as Nikki rushed out of the bedroom.

I did something to my neck and shoulders when I tensed up to hold Acelyn with one arm, and keep a hold on the railing with the other. The baby seems no worse for wear, and Nikki crashed hard after the adrenaline left her system. All in all, could have been a hell of a lot worse.

I’ve fallen down the front stairs in the winter twice. Once with Aidan (he ended up fine in the snow after having bounced off of my belly) and once with Acelyn buckled in her car seat. So I’m up to three. Let’s leave it right there, mkay?