But Was It Worth It?

Yes, yes it was.

We stopped in Tallulah to top off the tank, eat lunch, use the *ahem* facilities, and switch drivers. The Vansome announced as he took over the wheel that we were On Our Way, and the vehicle would not be stopping again until we were safely back in our own driveway. No sooner had we pulled on to the road when we noticed a tree frog on the windshield:

so we had to pull over. The Vansome was able to pick him up, but he escaped before he could be brought to safety in the grass along side the road. Apparantly tree frogs are a tad slippery. We gave him adequate time to get away from the tires, but then we had to move along. We wished him well, and apologized for leaving him in northeast Louisiana. I'm pretty sure he had been riding with us since Florida.

Back on the road, "NOW, we don't have to stop again until we're home."

"Um, Vansome, um, I really really want you to take my picture by the Hollybrook sign, remember?"

Long long ago, when I was a skinny little grade schooler, my daddy had taken my picture in front of a sign for Hollybroook, Louisiana. On the way back from a Big(ish) Family Disney Trip. Just like this trip, only we were too young to have spouses and children of our own, and I'm pretty sure we didn't even have a Brandon yet. Every time we pass through Hollybrook on our way back from Disney, I want to take my picture again. But not enough to actually stop, because I'd rather just get home sooner. So I always think I'll do it on the way back, because it's on that side of the road, and then on the way back I don't really care so much.

This time, it was Important. I needed a current picture of me by the sign. I needed it to be on this trip, the trip with all my family again. It was really Important. I was on the lookout, but I missed the sign. The Vansome saw it as he sped by. I convinced him that it was Important enough that he should turn around and go back. So he did. He crossed the highway, drove back a little ways, crossed again, and then pulled over. Then I saw the sign. It was not where I remembered it to be. It wasn't even the same sign, the original was green. But it was the only thing in the area that said "Hollybrook" except the top of the watertower (which was totally out of the question.)

I handed the camera to the Vansome and then stepped out into the grass on the side of the highway. My next step brought me crashing down, cursing, in pain, and pissed off. I had stepped in a massive hole hidden in the unruly grass clumps. The Vansome found me on my hands and knees, still cursing because I was still in pain. I kept waiting for the pain to subside just a little, but it just stayed and stayed. It really was disproportionate to the injury, I thought. The Vansome was sure I had broken my ankle, but I kept thinking surely it's not that bad. I hadn't even heard a "pop." A decade ago, when I lived in the duplex, I stepped out of my back door onto the side of my foot. That time I heard a definate "pop." It was only sprained and I didn't even use crutches, I just hobbled around for a couple of days. This time there was no "pop," so surely it couldn't be that bad, right?

The Vansome helped me to my feet when the pain and cursing finally abated. He half carried me to the sign (because I didn't go through all of that for nothing) and I got my picture, dammit. I faked a smile pretty well, I thought, but the camera just caught my squinty hair-in-my-face look. He took two just to make sure, but I deleted the other one because, well, it was not terribly flattering.

I tried to keep it raised after we got back on the road again, but that's hard to do in the front seat of a 4-Runner. So we pulled over again. This time The Boy and I switched places. The Vansome arranged bags to prop my foot on, and then he soaked one of his T-shirts in the icy cooler water and wrapped my ankle.

When we did arrive home, zero stops later, I found that I could actually walk on it fine. It totally supports all of my substantial weight. Now the ankle is fine, but the outside edge of my foot is not. My foot is swollen (see if you can tell which one):

and it hurts when I do things like press on the gas pedal, or if I hit it on something, which I do with some regularity. I believe I may have fractured the little bone that runs from my ankle to my pinky toe. Not much to be done about it, really.