I twisted my ankle. I know you all want to know my ailments (why else would you come to this site?). I was, that's correct, you guessed it, playing basketball when it happened. I won't say someone played dirtily and pushed me while I was in the air, but someone played dirtily and pushed me while I was in the air. I came down on another player's foot, and that was the end of my walking for a while. I was on crutches for a few days, but things are okay now: my limb is still very weak, but I can walk (with minimal pain), so that's been a blessing.

Sarah has been taking in the sights, sounds, and foods (especially the foods) of her home. We leave in less than a week, and she's been doing a good job not to be down about it. Yesterday, we visited Dijon, France. (You know, like the mustard: in fact, so like the mustard, it is where that particular condiment was invented). We walked around town, ate mustard, looked at old churches, ate mustard, ate mustard, and came back home. Seems rousing, I know (you're probably tired just reading about it), but our excursion was limited due to time constraints: Dijon is three hours from where Jan and Randy live, and we stopped at a castle on the way, which took about 2 hours (but it was worth it: they had monkeys, Japanese Snow Monkeys, in fact).

Anywho, I must go (the foreign keyboard: it's slowly killing me). I may write once or twice more before we return to California and my regular routine of posting 82 times a day. The end.