Fancy People

Today at dinner, Camary asked, "Are fancy people real?" She's been asking about lots of things lately, like, "Is Disneyland real?" and such. I told her that yes, fancy people are real. "Where do they live?" I told her they live all over. In fact, we could probably find some fancy people right here in Elk Ridge. (This is more likely in "upper" Elk Ridge, not down here in "lower" Elk Ridge, where we live.) Rusty jumped into the conversation with, "I'm fancy." Camary quickly rebutted that idea. "Fancy people don't fart and stink all the time. Also, they keep their rooms clean. Your room stinks like a skunk!" Yes, indeed. It would seem that Rusty is sadly not fancy.

I missed blogging last week, because I just didn't feel like it. Shortly after posting on the 2nd, I came down the stairs with Xander in my arms, missed the last step, and sprained my darn ankle! (Blast this family ankle curse.) Tracy and I were at the ER in Provo until one am that night. So, basically I've been laid up on the couch for the better part of two weeks. (I blogged about it on my writing blog, if you want to read that.) Thank heavens for good friends and a kind, helpful husband. My ankle is improving. I still have to use crutches, but I can put a little weight on it, so the crutches aren't so hard. I can also walk a short distance without the crutches, which makes getting around the bathroom and kitchen a whole lot easier. It's been a pain, but at least I can see improvement.

P.S. About that "upper" and "lower" Elk Ridge remark, I really do love this town. I  haven't ever met anyone snooty. It's really just an indication of elevation and not social status, but with the big houses up there, the term has always made me smile.