By Cathy Alter
I recently broke my ankle, and even though surgeons have rebuilt the joint, crutching around with grace, sleeping on my side, or taking a shower without the combination of my husband and a wobbly plastic stool still feels like a pipe dream. So, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. Mostly about hunting bears.
Example: the night before getting a billion stitches removed, a procedure that would have me writhing like a worm on hot cement, I comforted myself by repeating a line ...
Published on April 15, 2024 04:04