The Pain Is Worse When You Get Older

I was walking down the cellar stairs, carrying an enormous basket of laundry, when I hit something and my feet came out from under me. I landed with a thud, but not a lot of pain, on my mid-back. I made it through my day so far without a lot of pain, and then wham, driving, it hits me again like it’s been stored up and waiting to pounce.

One thing about getting older is that hurts hurt more, and you can’t just bounce back so fast. It’s now throbbing in pain as I sit here and go through my blogging duties. I am hoping that Arnica will do the trick, waiting for my son-in-law to get back to administer the dose.

It’s a soggy day here and it’s nice to have editor Stephen Hartshorne back in the office after his joyful trip down to Texas. His blog was absolutely exhuberant about his adventures visiting parades, meeting orchestra conductors, playing with baby alligators and eating crawfish.

I’m excited too about sending people around the world in search of stories…today we’re dispatching one of our all-time favorite interns Izzy to Valencia, Spain, and old pro Kent St. John to Athens to view the restored Acropolis. I’m hoping to be able to round out these travels by going to Normandy with Shoul, if the fates line up right.