Station #6

I don't feel like blogging, but I subscribe to the idea that those are the moments you should plow through and do it anyway. I also subscribe to the idea that I am frequently wrong.

After a week of too many visits to the doctor and sick Heath and only leaving the house to go to the doctor, we made a very special effort to be out this house much of the day. We managed a run, a trip to Target, a visit to the coffeeshop, and an impromptu walk to Fire Station #6 on Cherokee, 'round the corner from the Starbucks.

We lucked out and the pumper truck was arriving back from a jaunt out of its lovely rock and cobblestone two-story station. The Captain immediately complimented Heath and Stella on their rain boots and invited us inside. The kids got yet another up-close and personal look at the lives of fire fighters inside their domain. And inside their big ole truck.

As impossible as it was to top an afternoon traipse around a fire station and truck, we headed over to Freedom Park. The number of times Heath nearly fell into the duck pond is as innumerable as the number of times I had to tell Stella not to touch the duck poop. It was clear, though, everyone needed the time outdoors. And it was also clear that it was time to go home and eat dinner when the sun started to make its early descent, and Heath was in a heap of overwrought emotions and tears, face down on the sidewalk, and had to be carried back to the car.

Mark suggested Thai food. Twist my arm.

Hopefully we can continue to take lots of deep breaths and do a few things (like a nice long trail run in the morning!) to prepare ourselves for next week. We will know exactly what the lymph node infection is when we visit the doctor on Monday. Stella will have the first of two surgeries to remove them on Tuesday or Thursday.

Did you hear that? That was the sound of me trying to take a very deep breath.